


Three Sunflowers

by moonmayhem



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Drinking, Excessive Drinking, F/M, Gaslighting, Grief, Heavy Drinking, Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Sad, Self-Destruction, Stress Baking, Therapy, There’s a happy ending I swear to you, heavy drinking in chapters 5 & 6, kuroo tetsurou angst, more tags to be added later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26036908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmayhem/pseuds/moonmayhem
Summary: You and Kuroo have been happily together since your final year of college, but after an argument and a bad accident, things drastically change.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Comments: 34
Kudos: 176





	1. Yellow Camellia

**Author's Note:**

> This story has timestamps that I hope aren’t too difficult to follow! I was inspired by the songs “i luv him,” “I Couldn’t Be More In Love,” and "Tomorrow," by Daughter

**[April 2016]**

In his last year of college, Kuroo met you on the roof of the science building, helping the horticulture majors plant and prune their specimen for your club. He, on the other hand, was there on an errand for a professor. Although Kuroo decided to take the sports business major route at the end of his schooling, he still had a fairly good rapport with the professors in the sciences department.

He noted the way your smile shined widely and the way your eyes twinkled from the greenhouses reflecting the sun. The smudge of dirt underneath your jaw that probably came from the heavy mess of it on your fingertips and hands.

The errand he was on required him to extract a few herbs from the rooftop greenhouses, he asked your help for that since he didn’t have a clue about plants.

“Which ones do you need, Kuroo-san?”

“Just call me Kuroo, it makes me feel weird when formalities are used amongst classmates.”

You nodded, “Ok, Kuroo, which herbs would the professor like?”

Kuroo pulled out the sticky note of ingredients and squinted at the handwriting. “Basil, Coriander, and Lemon Balm leaves.”

Narrowing your eyes, you thought for a moment. “Fresh coriander?” When Kuroo confirmed, you chuckled. “I think the professor is trying to add flavor to his lunch.”

“What?”

Kuroo followed as you picked bits of the necessary herbs. “Basil is self-explanatory, it can be used fresh or dried at any time. Lemon Balm fresh or dried can be added to drinks or other things for flavor and aroma because their leaves smell like lemons. Coriander, on the other hand, their fresh foliage is called something else.”

Kuroo was oddly intrigued. He was putting the pieces together, he had walked into the professor’s office to chat, knowing the man had the next few hours open for planning and his lunch. But that wasn’t for the next hour, thankfully, Kuroo could stick around to talk to you for just a bit longer.

“What is the fresh foliage called, then?”

You spun around, a smile on your face, holding up a fresh stem of what looked like—

“Cilantro.”

You wrapped the herbs separately and delicately, not wanting to fracture the perfect way you cut them or infuse their natural aromas by laying them on top of one another. You settled them in a small container the horticulture club always seemed to have before handing them off to Kuroo.

“What’s your specialty up here?” His question caught you off guard and you tilted your head in question. “Do you only concern yourself with herbs or are flowers part of that mix?”

The twinkle in your eye amuses him, and you set off around the rooftop and inside the greenhouses to show him so many different things.

Flowers, you had told him, were more of your expertise but it was easy to take care of the rest of the plant life as well. You spoke of camellia for burns, feverfew for migraines, milk thistle for liver problems, and lilac for fevers and internal parasites (yuck).

“They’re gorgeous,” He said as his fingertips grazed the edges of the flower petals. “Don’t flowers have special meanings?”

“Yes,” you addressed the small pot-like vase of yellow camellia he was focused on. “In Japan, these symbolize longing; a yearning desire for someone or something. Those were a gift from an underclassman to someone in the club, they usually grow in evergreen shrubs or even trees!”

Kuroo noted the small breath of release at the fact the flowers were not gifted to you. “Do they mean something else, elsewhere?”

“Mhmm, in Western culture, yellow camellias mean excellence.”

As you explained the differences in meanings and how the different colors had significance in Japan, Kuroo couldn’t help but to map out the gentle arches and curves of your face. He wondered what you’d look like in a field of tulips while the sun painted a rose-colored hue on your cheeks, and what it would feel like to know that a smile as big and as bright as a sunflower was reserved specifically for him.

Kuroo wondered if these feelings were the beginning symptoms of longing.

\--

It’d been two weeks since he first spoke to you and he’d been visiting and meeting up with you every chance he could get. He decided that somehow, someway he wanted you to _hear_ this feeling flourishing inside of him. He wanted to give you a symbol of it in a familiar language that you spoke, a language that he would work hard to learn himself.

Flowers. Flowers and herbs and succulents. Whatever he could get his hands on that would show you his affections, his adoration for you.

There was a florist three train stops away from the University that Kuroo thought was safe enough for him to visit without being found out. He wanted to learn more about flowers the next time he talked to you so that he could feel the warmth of your smile over him.

He frequented the area at least three times a week, working up the courage to ask questions about things he has barely any knowledge of, but he only ever stared at the yellow camellia bush blooming outside. He wondered if their symbol of yearning would be enough to give you… Kuroo felt like he needed something _more_.

It took the shop owner seeing him stand at the front of her store awkwardly for the fourth time in a single week before she walked out to ask if he needed something.

At first, he hesitated, unsure of what he had wanted to find out in the first place, besides wanting to have something of substance to discuss the next time he saw you.

“I don’t know, uh, there’s this girl…”

The florist hummed.

“She knows so much about flowers and herbs, and the way she talks about them is so mesmerizing…”

Kuroo trailed off again with a fond look adorning his face and the owner smiled softly. “When you look at her, what does she remind you of?”

“Sunflowers - she shines like a golden beacon when she smiles.”

“Well, these aren’t in season until the summer, but they will do.” The owner beckoned him further into her shop and began to put together a small bouquet of sunflowers. “You don’t always have to know the meaning of a flower to make someone happy. I’m sure if you tell her that her smile reminds you of these, then, despite their meaning, she’ll be moved.”

“Thank you,” Kuroo blinked, shocked, and slightly in awe. “What _do_ they symbolize though?”

“Adoration, loyalty, and longevity. You could make quite the statement with these regardless.” 

Her smile was sly like she knew what would occur well before he even did. She handed Kuroo a small bundle of three sunflowers and said, “If you come back and tell me what she says you can have these for free.”

He had never agreed to something so quickly.

When he gave them to you, he was nervous and stumbling over his words. He’d known you for a month at best, but it didn’t take him long to become entranced by the way your hands moved delicately around soil and the soft elation you spoke with when telling him new things.

This time the two of you were stood outside your apartment, Kuroo had messaged you asking you out to eat in a way he hoped made it sound like a date.

“They’re gorgeous, thank you.” There was a question in your eyes and he finally found his tongue to ask just what it was you were trying to say. “Which meaning are you trying to convey, hm?”

Kuroo felt his cheeks heat. “If I said all three would you believe me?”

\--

**[December 2018; Present]**

“The two of you seemed to have a very loving start to your relationship.”

The comment pulls you back to reality. Reminiscing on the past and how you met Kuroo felt like a security blanket had been draped over you, briefly making you forget where you were.

Briefly.

“We did. We started dating after that and I ended up meeting the florist he purchased the sunflowers from after he gifted them for the tenth time.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “The tenth?”

Your fingers tangled in the chain around your neck that held a small golden sunflower pendant at the end. “Every week he would go there and buy me at _least_ one sunflower, depending on their supply. Two and a half years later and he still kept it up.”

“It sounds like he maintained the meaning of loyalty and longevity that the flower symbolizes.”

A sigh fell heavy from your lips. “He told me the day he stopped bringing me flowers would be the day he stopped loving me, and that that day would never come.”

You looked directly at the therapist across from you and wondered if she had felt anything like you currently did after a breakup.

If colors lost their vividness. If flowers lost their smell. If getting out of bed every morning felt like a chore. If the sun’s rays didn’t feel as warm as before. If the smell of coffee in the evening brought her to tears rather than filling her with comfort.

“Being sad feels like a joke sometimes.”

“Why do you say that?”

For a minute, your eyes zone out again, thinking of the way Kuroo used to look at you — the fondness that pooled in his eyes when you’d wrap your arms around him and kiss his jaw. He’d kiss your forehead, nose, and lips, before resting his head against yours.

“I’m not the one that was hurt, yet I’m here seeking help.”

“But you _were_ hurt. Maybe not physically, but emotionally.” You turn your head away from the therapist’s calculating gaze. “It’s why you decided to be here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I-” your voice catches in your throat, “I feel guilty just for being here.”

There is the sound of a pen scribbling on paper and you wonder what it is she’s taking note of. Is it the way your thumb anxiously grazes over the lines of your palm when you imagine him holding your hand? Maybe how you bite at the skin of your lip when you mention his name? It could even be the way you couldn’t meet her eyes when you spoke of your guilt.

The scratching of the pen stops and she requests something of you, “Tell me exactly why you’re here again. I think you need to hear yourself say it.”

You shake your head, you hate saying it out loud because it makes it more real than it already is. _Guilt_.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Closing your eyes, you try to escape the words that always sit at the back of your throat threatening to turn your stomach if you swallow them down. _Guilt_.

“My boyfriend was in an accident while he was on the phone with me. We were having an argument.”

There was the harrowing feeling of the therapist’s eyes boring into the side of your face, urging you to continue. _Guilt_.

“He suffered a blow to the head and was knocked unconscious.”

_Say it_ , Tetsurou’s voice echoed in your head. So you listened.

“When he woke up in the hospital, he didn’t know who I was. He had no recollection of ever meeting me.”

_Despair_.

\--

**[November 2018]**

Tetsu’s father pulls you aside, his eyes rimmed red and adorned with dark circles, but he’s smiling.

His son woke up. Kuroo gave a lopsided grin when he saw his dad and Kenma, but furrowed his brow slightly and tilted his head at you. The upturn of his lips was formed by confusion, not happiness.

“Who are you?” He asked.

The room had gone quiet with his question and before his words could set in, the doctor came forward to speak and you left to wait in the hallway.

It takes you a minute to refocus on Kuroo-san, he calls out to you again as you stand almost lost in the hallway outside of the hospital room with that same smile, but you can’t seem to return the enthusiasm. It feels like it’s mocking you.

“The doctor said that it might be best if he goes home.”

You’d slept on the uncomfortable couch in that room, on and off for the last 72 hours waiting for Tetsurou to wake up. Home sounded nice.

It’s dumb, and you know it is, but that doesn’t stop you from asking the next question anyway.

“With you or with me?”

His father’s smile falters only a little bit like he’s finally realizing that his blatant happiness is a bit much for you to take.

“With me,” he says gentler, words now dripping in pity. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking properly. I was just excited for Tetsurou to finally be awake that I didn’t consider how you must be hurting.”

“Yeah, I must be.” The expression you’re facing him with is one devoid of emotion like you’ve gone numb to safeguard the remaining pieces of yourself. The politeness you should be showing him flies out of the window. You aren’t thinking straight. You aren’t thinking at all. “I’m sorry,” you bow slightly, voice still monotone, but hoping he can understand your need to protect yourself. “Is there something you’d like me to do?”

His palms rub at the sides of his slacks as the air grows uncomfortable between the two of you. It’s his only child. Apart from his parents, Tetsurou is the only person he has left. You try hard to make your brain and your heart understand that you are not the only one that was — _is_ — in pain.

“Yes, could you take Kenma to your shared apartment? I’ve asked him to bring back a few of Tetsurou’s things.”

You hum, acknowledging his request. Something in your chest knots itself up tightly.

_This is how I lose him._

There is the sound of the door opening and that pulls your eyes away from Kuroo-san long enough to see Tetsu in the hospital bed, staring back as you gaze at him passed Kenma’s frame in the doorway.

He’s a gentle vision with his hair down, loose strands nearly covering up those cat-like pupils that you know and love so well. He’s always looked so beautiful.

“Were we too close to the door, Kenma?” Surprisingly, your voice comes out evenly, but your eyes do not leave Tetsu’s curious ones.

“Yes, he’s asking how he knows you since you left after he asked, but he doesn’t want to upset you further.”

Tetsurou protests; embarrassed that his best friend outed him that quickly, but Kenma knows what you can handle and would rather things be discussed immediately.

“A close friend,” you answer, face relaxing into something like calm acceptance. Only for him. “We met in college.”

“Do we live together?”

The deep sound of his voice and the vulnerability in his eyes cinches your heart, and you decide that this is where you should start to bury your feelings. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kenma and Kuroo-san both stiffen.

“We do, but it’s only temporary. My last apartment was old and a pipe burst, flooding it. You offered me your couch until it was fixed or found another place of my own.”

It wasn’t a lie, only half the truth. All of that did occur, but that was a year or more ago. You just never left after Tetsu said he loved how the two of you came home to one another every day. He had said that it made him feel like you were married.

\--

Quietly, you slip your house slippers on and head straight to the bedroom. Kenma is silent behind you, but you hear him typing away on his phone probably to inform everyone else of Tetsu’s new development.

“Ken, I’m going to put a few of Tetsu’s favorite outfits in here, alright? A lot of comfy ones too, like his sweatpants and hoodies. I don’t know how often he’ll be active-”

Kenma calls out to you softly.

“-But I want to make sure he can relax whenever he wants. Of course, I’ll put his athletic wear in here, too. Oh! And his pillow, he just recently bought this new one because he kept complaining about his neck-”

He said it again, this time louder.

“-and tell obaasan that he asked me to make his favorite this weekend because he was craving it. I’m sure his taste buds haven’t changed even if his memories have.”

The laugh that you gave was empty and left your chest feeling hollow. Kenma calls out to you one final time, grabs your shoulder, and spins you around to face him.

“You’re allowed to cry.”

“Not yet,” you mutter, holding one of Tetsu’s shirts to your chest.

He looked startled, “Huh?”

“Not until you leave. Not until I’m alone in our apartment and I can’t hear that stupidly obnoxious laugh I love echoing in my head.” You bring the shirt up to your face, bottom lip trembling. “I don’t want to cry when I know he’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with him. He-” your voice breaks, “he just forgot about me.”

Kenma squeezes your shoulder and asks, “Do you want me to come back tomorrow, instead?”

Shaking your head, you gather yourself back up and fold the shirt in your hand. “No, I want to make sure Tetsu has everything he needs. I want to make sure he’s comfortable.”

His hands drop from you and he sighs. “You know he loves you. He’ll remember, you just have to give him time. The doctor said we just can’t shock him with new things, he’ll have to figure them out on his own.”

You nod. It’s always time.

Almost gasping, you remember, “The pictures of us on his phone-”

“Don’t worry, when they were talking to the doctor I made sure to transfer all of those to your email before deleting them.”

“Ok,” after packing the last of Tetsu’s things in his suitcase and gym bag, you sigh. “Just…make sure no one slips up.”

Kenma looks up at you from his phone screen, obviously texting everyone in a group chat. “Bokuto-san will be the difficult one.”

“Yeah, well, I guess that’ll be Sakusa’s job then.”

He snorts and then looks back down at his phone when it dings, “Shoyou is asking if you’re still coming to his game next week.”

“I haven’t been to a volleyball game by myself in a while. It’s best if I pass.”

“You know, you don’t have to distance yourself from us just because we all met you through Kuroo.”

Kenma’s cat eyes have always been sharp and calculating. It’s what made him a valuable asset in volleyball and it’s what makes him a successful businessman today – also a dauntingly perceptive friend.

“Tell Hinata that I’ll see how I’m feeling, but I can’t make promises.”

When Kenma leaves, you decide that now is the best time to replace all of the pictures in the apartment that have the two of you in them. Instead, you place images of Kuroo and the rest of his family and friends in their stead. It hurts less this way. You can still live here and be surrounded by him, but not all of the memories that he has forgotten.

It’s not until you take the pictures of the both of you and tuck them away in a drawer, that you cry. There is something there, pushed to the very back of the drawer, in a blue velvet box that you pull forward but dare not open. Whether it’s a necklace or earrings or even a ring, you do not care, all that matters is that it is a gift from when he wanted you. When he could see you in a crowd of people and his face lit up. The image of his furrowed brow in that hospital bed will continue to haunt you and that’s what hurts.

What were you supposed to do now? All of this love for him with nowhere to put it and no one to give it to. A wretched wail of a sound rips itself from your chest as you collapse down onto your knees, the tears spilling in rivers over your cheeks and down your neck.

Your fingertips still inside the drawer, graze at the softness of the velvet box unable to get a good grasp at the future as you grieve for what might have been.

\--

Right outside of Kuroo’s house, Kenma delivers the suitcase and gym bag that you had put together as requested.

“Kenma, this thing is huge! Is my whole life in here?”

Kenma tips his head to the side, thinking. “Not quite, but she did pack a lot of essentials in there for you. The gym bag has your athletic wear, too.”

“She?”

“Y/n— from the hospital?”

Kuroo blinks once, letting his brain do a bit of work before the puzzle pieces click together again. “Right! I forgot I lived with her.”

“Can you do me a favor?” Kenma digs into his wallet, thumbs through the cards before finding exactly what he was looking for. He holds the item between his thumb and forefinger waiting for Kuroo to respond. Probably knowing he shouldn’t do this, but the tiniest push in the right direction never hurt anyone.

“Hm?” As far back as Kuroo can remember, Kenma has never really asked him for a favor. “Is everything alright?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he slips Kuroo a mini polaroid picture and looks at his childhood friend with a kind of seriousness that sends a shiver up the spine.

“Remember her.”

Kuroo furrows his brow, frown deepening as Kenma bids him goodnight and leaves. He waits until Kenma is no longer in sight to look at the picture. It is of him, Bokuto, Hinata, and you; Bokuto has Hinata on his shoulders, while you attempted to mirror them with Kuroo. He looks startled like he hadn’t expected you to try and climb up his back like it was a mountain.

The picture is funny, candid, and more than likely an outtake captured by Kenma. There was probably a more well-timed depiction of the situation that maybe he or someone else had posted elsewhere, but this one seemed to hold a fonder meaning if Kenma kept it in his wallet.

There were flashes of your laughter and your hands gripping his shoulders. Images of Hinata urging you to hurry with Kenma a little ways away looking bored with the polaroid camera.

Kuroo suddenly felt sick and he stumbled back a couple of steps before his dad gripped his shoulder and spun him around.

“Tetsurou? You look pale, are you alright?”

He ran his hand over his face while his father took the heavy luggage and urged him inside.

“Y-yeah, sorry, dad.”

_Remember her._

“I think I kind of remember that girl.” His father grunts acknowledgment but doesn’t ask him to elaborate. “Her face just seems so familiar.”

Kuroo groans, squeezing his eyes shut as dull pain blossoms behind them.

His father is at his side then, accompanied by his slightly fretful grandmother. “Tetsurou, don’t force yourself to remember anything! The doctor said it isn’t good for you.”

“I’m not trying to force myself, dad,” he groans. “I don’t like that I’ve lost the last couple of years of my life! I’m 24, but I only remember being a few months away from 22. I missed my college graduation!”

His grandmother chuckles, “Well, you didn’t miss it, dear. The memories of that day are just locked away somewhere else for right now. Maybe I can show you some photos when the doctor thinks it’ll be safe, hm?”

Kuroo hums and thinks back at the look you gave him. Eyes rimmed red and glassy from the news of his forgotten memories. He tells his family that he’s going to take a bath to wash off the hospital smell, but all he seems to think about while he tugs at his clothes is the smile on your face when he opened his eyes.

_Bright and wide_ , he thought.

When he takes off his jacket, something flutters out from his loose pocket; yellow petals nearly three inches long fall to the ground.

“Petals?”

_Bright_.

_Like a sunflower_.

\--

Being a writer came in handy sometimes, especially in the emotional predicament you found yourself in today with Tetsurou not being a fundamental part of your life anymore. It meant that you didn’t have to leave the apartment early in the morning and pretend like everything was okay at work when it felt like you were fraying at the seams.

You were thankful that you weren’t famous like Kenma and your volleyball boys that you’d gotten so close to over the recent years. Having your relationship brought up constantly and people showering you in sympathies and pity would have made everything doubly worse.

Instead, you could sit at home with every other memory you had of him. At least here, no one else’s eyes were watching in case of a breakdown; just the light rainfall out the window that painted a picture of memory taken for granted.

_Kuroo stood underneath the small shelter of the apartment building overhang, looking out into the sheets of falling rain with his fingers loosely intertwined with yours. He squeezed them with a smile that softened the sharp edges of his face even more -- something you had found yourself fawning at daily -- and asked, “Are you ready?”_

_There was a giddiness in his voice that felt like a contagion as it spread to you as well. You nodded your head once and muttered out a soft word of agreement before he pulled you into the steady downfall. The two of you were barefoot; his pants rolled up to mid-calf so the dirt didn’t muddy the fabric. He pulled you to him — his hair and yours, plastered to your foreheads and cheeks — and guided you in a slow dance as he hummed out a tune, mumbling out words to accompany it every once in a while._

_Raindrops had found their home on his lashes and the very tips of his hair; you resisted the urge to kiss them away._

_A faraway crack of lightning and the following rumble of thunder had done nothing to remove the wide smiles on your faces as Kuroo leaned down to press a kiss once to your forehead and another to your lips._

_The both of you are cold and drenched, yet have never felt so blissfully warm._

Your phone rings and you have to blink away the haze of the memory to see the caller I.D.

“Hinata,” you sighed, mentally working yourself up to hold a decent conversation. “Hello?”

“Hi, y/n!” The cheerfulness in his voice is a welcome change to the heaviness in your chest. He’s always been a bright ray of sunshine. “I was calling to see if you were free today. Me and Bokuto-san--,” there’s a scuffle and words exchanged on Hinata’s end that you can’t quite make out. “Uh, I was wonder if I could come over and hang out? I might bring company!”

“You don’t have to do that--,”

Another voice yelled over the phone, “We want to!”

“Was that Atsumu?” You chuckled, already mentally taking notes on going out to buy some groceries. Hinata liked to eat and Atsumu was no different, You probably didn’t have enough in the fridge for the two of them.

“Yeah! He wants to come too.”

“What about Sakusa? I’ll have to clean up a bit if he’s tagging along.” When Hinata asked, you were surprised to hear a confirmation on his attendance. “Oh, alright then, would you mind picking up some groceries for me then? I want to cook for you guys.”

There was a loud ‘whoop’ from Hinata and Atsumu over the promise of being fed and it brought a soft smile to your face. “Send us a list and consider the shopping handled, y/n!”

“I appreciate it.” You remained quiet for a few seconds while the guys talked amongst themselves. “Hey, Hinata?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”


	2. Periwinkle

**[November 2018]**

Bokuto comes to visit Kuroo the day after he gets out of the hospital, not having told Hinata the real reason why he couldn’t come along to visit. He was worried that it would upset you and that’s far from what he wanted to do.

“Bokuto?”

Pulled from his thoughts, “Ah, Obaasan, hello!” Kuroo’s grandmother stands out the door with a tender smile on her face. “Is Kuroo in?”

“Yes, he’s in his room. Come in, dear.” When he steps in, she watches as he slips off his shoes and Bokuto can tell she wants to ask him something, but he waits for her to speak. “How’s y/n doing?”

Bokuto shakes his head since he’s barely talked to you. He doesn’t know what to say because what do you tell someone who has lost a lover by chance? Not from death or disease, break up or infidelity, but by a rare ill-omened calamity.

“Kenma and Hinata are the only ones that have talked to her. I was invited to go visit her today, but I wanted to make sure Kuroo was doing alright.”

“That’s very nice of you, I’m sure Tetsurou will appreciate that. Go ahead and make yourself at home.”

Once Kuroo’s grandmother instructs Bokuto where his room is, he walks down the hall a bit nervously. He doesn’t quite know what he’s allowed to say or do, all he knows is that Kenma made him promise not to mention you. _You_ don’t even know he’s here–not that he had to tell you, but Bokuto felt like all of this was wrong, like maybe he would slip up and cause even more issues.

“What are you doing here, Bo?”

He’s startled out of his internal dilemma when Kuroo appears. “Kuroo! Hey, man, I came to check up on you! How are you feeling?”

“Other than being sore from the accident, I’m all good.” He lets his friend into his childhood room, allowing him to take in the decor as he goes back to pulling more things out of a suitcase.

The number of items from the apartment you and Kuroo share is a bit shocking to the ace, he wonders if you tried to pack every item you thought necessary. “Did y/n pack all of your stuff for you?”

_Mistake number one._

Kuroo looks up at him and Bokuto can’t read the expression he has. He blinks exactly three times, staring blankly before Bo says his name again to grab his attention.

“Yeah, sorry, Kenma told me that she did.”

Bokuto inwardly thanks the heavens that Kuroo stopped his sentence there because Kenma would have acted on the threats he made.

“Actually, Bokuto, about y/n…Who is she really?”

Yeah, he made a huge mistake.

\--

Atsumu has been delegated the task of chopping the scallions, but he easily gets distracted by Sakusa perusing around your apartment. “Omi-Omi, you can’t just inspect y/n’s apartment like you’re looking for germs!”

“I’m not. I’m admiring the strategically placed hand sanitizer bottles.”

Sakusa turns to face you in the kitchen and gives you a thumbs up. Oddly enough, a sense of pride kindles inside of you and you beam back at him. You only bring out those bottles when you know he’s coming over, it’s like extending a very clean olive branch.

Hinata is setting the table; he is near sweating as Sakusa immediately walks over and begins to hover, watching him like a hawk so that his hands don’t contaminate anything that might touch his hands or mouth.

“I forgot to ask, why couldn’t Bokuto come, Hinata?”

“He went to check on Kuroo-san!”

“How the hell do you know that? He wouldn’t tell us where he was going.” Atsumu questions.

Hinata shrugged, “It was kind of obvious. He tried too hard to keep it a secret.”

You’ve deliberately kept quiet, letting them discuss Bokuto’s whereabouts, but then you look up to see three sets of eyes on you. “It’s rude to stare, you know.” They all immediately avert their eyes. “Please tell me that Kenma has already talked to Bokuto about what he can and can’t say?”

Sakusa answers you first, “Kozume-san came in with reinforcements.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for someone to elaborate.

“Akaashi-san,” Hinata chimed in.

“Oh good,” you exhaled and nodded as if you were trying to reassure yourself. “That’s good, that should keep him from slipping up.”

As everyone began to lay the food out on the table, their phones all went off. Each of them glanced at the message and looked as if something bad had happened, but Atsumu was the first one to speak up.

“Uh, I think we spoke too soon about Bokkun keeping his mouth shut.”

You felt your blood go cold. “Please explain before I go into a panic, Atsumu.”

“He briefly mentioned you, but didn’t say anything serious, but he, uh… Kuroo asked who you really were.”

“What else?”

Hinata spoke next, “Bokuto-san told him to come to our next game if he was so curious about you! It’ll be okay, y/n, just come to the game and everything will work itself out.”

His optimism was always something that you marveled at. It’s not that he was wrong, there wasn’t any problem with both you and Tetsu being at the game. It was the fact that he was asking about you as if he knew something was up. He’s a smart man, it was inevitable that he would grow suspicious of his friends and how they were probably acting differently in front of him. You had just held onto some false hope that he would have dismissed it as them being worried about his condition. Tetsurou was too smart for his own good.

“Well, I guess that settles it then.” The practiced smile of yours paints itself over your face when you look back at the three men staring attentively. “I’ll be there to cheer you guys on as usual. Now, let’s eat, I’m starving and definitely not a fan of cold food!”

It would be fine. You would make sure of that.

\--

When the guys leave so does the distraction from the overthinking. It would be easier for you to see Kuroo under the veil of a close college friend that he just so happened to let sleep in his apartment temporarily. Instead, you have to go into this with your guard up and your heart encased in steel, knowing that he sees something underneath the surface of everyone’s thinly-veiled lies.

You’re afraid that if he speaks to you, knowing that there’s something he’s not being told, he will easily coax the heartbreaking truth out of you. Your hands shake with the thought of it. How you will stand there by the volleyball court, out in public with his eyes just as scrutinizing as Kenma’s when he wants them to be, with tears teetering off the edge of your waterline.

You imagine yourself having to explain to a man that is unsure of his past, that you are his girlfriend. That he has kissed you awake more times than not. That he had become the reason for you to wake up on the days it was hard to.

You’re terrified that when you tell him that the two of you were more than just friends he will wonder what he ever saw in you.

Digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, you take one deep inhale through your nose, desperately trying to calm down the intruding, incessant thoughts that are doing nothing but bury a knife between your ribs, and then exhale steadily.

This moment reminds you of the time Tetsu and you had fought. Insecurities and self-doubt bubbling up inside of you on the really bad days. On the days where you felt like you didn’t deserve someone like him in your life, you would not only hurt yourself but in a desperate attempt to get him to ‘see the light’ you would often question why he loved you.

**[January 2018]**

Frustration is apparent in the furrow of Tetsu’s brow and the downturn of his mouth. His hands tighten into fists and release like he’s in a repetitive cycle of stopping himself from saying something that’ll upset you further. He wants to demand a reason for your doubt, but he knows that you won’t have a solid one to provide him. He knows that sometimes you get so down on yourself that it’s hard to believe that anyone would want to stay, but _god_ he does. Kuroo wants to be with you for as long as you’ll allow him to and he hopes more than anything that it’ll be forever.

He treats you like you’ve always wanted to be treated; he knows the balance between your fragility and your toughness and knows when you don’t need to be handled with care.

This isn’t one of those times, but he is so, so frustrated that he doesn’t know what to say. So, as you look at him from your place at the edge of the bed, sitting with your hands in your lap, he walks out of the bedroom and it feels like the ground has fallen out from under you, but you don’t blame him. Questioning someone’s love when all they do is provide a never-ending stream of it is hurtful and messy. It’s like playing with fire, hoping that you get burned if only to be affirmed that you’re still able to feel.

You sit there for a minute in the feeling of Kuroo being gone and take in the quiet, the chill of him not being near you and it stings like a slap to the face. Sometimes it takes a minute for the reality of it all to set in and for the self-destruction to become evident. Then, like a large ugly red flag, it is there waving itself in your face.

Five more minutes pass and you get up to find him, scared that this time you’ve pushed too much — asked for too much. But, instead, you find him sat at the dining table with a pen and a pad of paper, furiously writing things down.

Puzzled, you ask him what he’s doing and he finishes jotting down two or three more things before looking up with the same frustration he had in the bedroom.

“I’m writing down everything I love about you, why you deserve what I have to offer, and all of the things I’ll do for you until you get it through that beautiful thick skull of yours that I only want you, for the _rest_ of my life.”

Kuroo goes back to writing once he’s done explaining and you see how he white knuckles the pad of paper like a lifeline, like this is the only way he will make you believe him and your heart nearly breaks.

It hurts. It upsets you that you’ve made him feel this desperate to explain his love to you like he hasn’t done it every day since you’ve gotten together. Like the sunflowers that are in their vase in the middle of your table aren’t changed weekly by him.

You sit next to him, pulling closer one of the chairs so that you can be hip to hip. You pull a leg up onto the chair and lean your head against his shoulder, watching as he scribbles down his sentences line by line.

“Tetsu, I’m sorry. I love you so much and you show me every single day how much you love and cherish me. Sometimes my brain tells me that your love isn’t as full and plentiful as my heart knows it is.” You kiss his shoulder trying to give him whatever gentle affection you can currently provide. “Sometimes it tells me I don’t deserve you even if you think I do.”

Kuroo presses a hard kiss into your hair, “I know, petal. Your brain is wrong and if I have to tell you five, ten, twenty times a day that I love you to drown out the voice in your head, then I will.” He taps at the already three-quarters full piece of paper and looks at you. “This list is for the days when I’m not here, alright?” He pulls your fingers up to his lips and kisses each fingertip. “And for the mornings that I can’t pepper you with kisses and give you all of my love physically.”

With a soft, happy sigh you ask, “Are you still upset with me?”

“I am, but only because I love you so much.”

“Ok,” you nod because it’s fair. “When will you be done filling out the list?”

“Probably never.”

**[November 2018]**

Tetsu always kept the notepad in your bedside table; he wanted it to be as accessible to you as possible if he was on a business trip and you missed him a bit too much. The first few pages were crinkled by the repeated motion of being folded over the top lip of the legal pad. Tetsu’s familiar handwriting busied the lines and sometimes the margins with little doodles, mostly of hearts and cliche initials like they had been etched into a tree trunk.

Gearing yourself up, you decided to focus your attention on a handful of the bullet points that decorated the page in hopes that it would make you feel slightly better before bed.

  * _I love the way your fingers dance over plants like you’re trying to figure out how they’re feeling._
  * _I love that weird sound you make with your tongue against the roof of your mouth._
  * _Your cooking is exceptional (except for that one time when you nearly burnt down my kitchen on our fourth date)._
  * _You make me a better person._
  * _My mom would’ve loved you, too._
  * _Your arms feel better than any other place I’ve called home._
  * _Kenma told me that he’d slander me on the internet if I hurt you._
  * _Your smile reminds me of sunflowers._
  * _Your kisses taste like… I don’t know, you. Just you._
  * _You’re patient with me when I’m not easy to be around._
  * _When you wake up and see me looking at you, your eyes crinkle when your smile reaches them and your cheeks turn pink._
  * _You’re cute when you pout to try and get your way._
  * _That one time you got drunk and told Matsukawa to his face that he was a discounted Sakusa with his grown-out hair (I almost choked on my food I laughed so hard)._
  * _You chose me._



When you had started reading you were prepared to start crying again, but just like he had said, these things reminded you of why Tetsurou loved you in the first place. The fact that certain things in your life, mere instances in time, could rekindle that flame inside of him enough to want to write it down at the end of the day filled with you with gentle comfort.

With this to remind you that the man you love, underneath the injury and memory loss, loved you just as fiercely, you could find it in yourself to see him at the volleyball game. You could sit next to him and talk about whatever he wanted as long as it meant you could be by his side again, if only for a little while.

Having him by you would be better than not having him at all. Possibilities swirled around your brain of what could become of this; he could fall in love with you again, for one, but maybe that was a little dangerous to think about.

With a deep breath in, you held the notepad close to your chest and smiled. Kuroo had a funny way of being the spark in your life that reminded you of your possibility to be lightning.

\--

The day of the game was more nerve-wracking than you had initially anticipated. The fear that once had you in its teeth wasn’t present, but its close cousin anxiety had different plans for you. Hinata had asked you to show up early so that he could give you a special pass to step onto the court and head towards the locker rooms after the game.

Only, when you got back there, Kuroo was already standing with a similar pass around his neck talking to Bokuto. He sees you before you can avert your eyes and suddenly it feels like the whole world has tilted off of its axis. Was seeing him always this nausea-inducing? The feelings inside of you aren’t butterflies, more like Atlas moths spreading their cramped wings, shoving themselves up against the lining of your stomach trying desperately to escape.

“Hey, y/n!” There is a nervous lilt to Bokuto’s voice and you grin a bit knowing that he’s worried about how you’ll act in front of Kuroo. “Hinata mentioned you’d be here soon!”

“Mhmm, you missed a good dinner last night with me and my little kitchen helpers!” Bokuto pouted slightly, making you chuckle. “It’s okay you big owl, I know you were with this aristocat yesterday.”

“Aristocat?” You could practically hear the smile in Tetsu’s voice without even looking. “Like that Disney movie?”

There was a sharp glint in his eyes and a playful smirk playing at his lips; playful Kuroo was out and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Smart man,” you praised. “Specifically Berlioz with his cute little red ribbon, don’t you think it suits you?”

It was a cute little nickname that you would call him every once in a while after the two of you had watched the movie together. He tried to make the argument that he was the suave Thomas O’Malley wooing the beautiful Duchess–you–but you wouldn’t hear any of it. He was obviously the young little troublemaker, Berlioz.

“Don’t you think I’m more of a–,”

“Thomas O’Malley? Keep dreaming.”

A laugh from him echoed against the hallway walls and it felt like the air had been tugged out of you along with it. It hadn’t even been that long since you heard it, but it felt like you’d been deprived of it for some time now and the smile on your face hasn’t been this wide since he was safe in your arms.

Bokuto was watching the exchange, a face splitting grin on display as he watched the casual flirting the two of you comfortably settled into.

“Bokuto-san is y/n here— Ah! Y/n, Kuroo senpai, you’re here!”

Everyone turned to look at the new addition to the mix; Hinata, in all of his rambunctious glory, leaped over to you and placed the lanyard pass over your neck.

“Thanks, tangerine. Are you feeling energized?” His exuberance radiated like the sun, it felt so nice on your skin. “I’m excited to see you all play.”

Both Hinata and Bokuto talked animatedly about the game to come and how they were going to win to show everyone the power of the Black Jackals! Their voices were well above an acceptable volume and Sakusa stuck his head out of the locker room to tell them to, _‘shut up,’_ because they were _‘spreading germs by yelling._ ’

Leaving the players to it, you and Kuroo walk together to the stands, the earlier banter having gone flat after you left the others. By the time the two of you got to your seats Kuroo’s sidelong glances had become glaringly obvious. His fingers were twitching in his lap, unsure of where or what he should do with his hands. As a show of good faith, you grabbed and slapped them together between your own. Kuroo’s eyes were wide as he looked into yours.

“Wha-?”

“You looked nervous and your hands were all jittery. I thought I’d do this to center you a bit, maybe ask what’s wrong?”

You tried to make your voice as gentle as possible. After all, this version of Kuroo didn’t know you at all. All the trust you had built together had disappeared into a locked compartment of his mind, you only hoped he could find it within himself to accept the helping hand you offered.

“So,” you start, and settle his hands back on his lap. “You look like you want to ask something. What is it?”

Fans started to file into the empty seats around the two of you with their food, drinks, and Thundersticks to use during the game. Yet, the way he looked at you drowned everything else out and it felt as if the two of you were safe in your own little bubble.

“Who are you?”

The bubble didn’t last long.

You furrowed your brow, “What do you mean?”

Kuroo cleared his throat and chose to look at the court instead. “I know you’re my friend and roommate, but I know there’s something _more_ that I’m not being told.

The Atlas moths were back. This time it felt as if they were using their mouths to burrow their way out of your stomach.

“When Kenma dropped off my things he gave me a picture that he had in his wallet-,” you knew exactly what picture, “-and I could see it happening like the picture was moving and I could hear you laughing.”

It felt difficult to breathe and panic lit up inside of you like hazard lights. “So you remembered something?”

He shook his head, “It was more like I saw it play out as a third party. But Kenma, he-he asked me to remember you.”

Those words startled you. Kenma knew it wasn’t safe for him to remember anything. It was the whole reason why you had decided to bury your feelings. Bury the things that you had so delicately cultivated for him and pretend like everything was normal, at least for now. Oh, god, you were about to cry. You couldn’t find your words. There was a hot stone in your throat and you knew an attack was beating down your door. Too many people. You shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have thought you could make the best of being by Tetsu. Should’ve stayed home. _Breathe. Fucking_ ** _breathe_** _._

A cool hand took your sweaty one and placed it over their beating heart. Your head snapped towards Tetsu whose own features looked scared. “Focus on the rise and fall of my chest. Breathe with me, petal.”

_Petal_.

Despite the hammering of your own heart and the panic stealing away the breath from your burning lungs, you were able to gather your bearings long enough to take one deep shaky inhale. _Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale_.

Kuroo did his best to take deep, steady breaths to help get you on track. He used to help Kenma when they were kids and he was forced into situations he didn’t want to be in. This situation, he assumed, was no different. Except, he remembered that relocating Kenma and sitting with him until he calmed down was the usual go-to method, yet, this came just as easily to him. Maybe his body reacted to muscle memory. Maybe he’s had to help you with attacks before. He had so many questions.

“I’m okay now, thank you.”

Kuroo lets go of you immediately after realizing he had been staring and clutching your hand a tad bit too tightly to his chest. “Of course, I’m glad I could help.”

Absently, you nodded. Still feeling a bit shaky you couldn’t get over the fact that he jumped right into his normal routine of getting you to match his breathing whenever things like this happened. It was rare; panic attacks didn’t happen as often as they used to when you were younger, but having someone with you to help for the last few years was comforting.

_Who are you?_

You briefly shut your eyes and took another deep breath. He asked one question and you couldn’t even answer it–or lie–without freaking out. You felt pathetic. There was no way you could play this off now. Tetsurou was much too smart to accept the ‘ _we’re just friends_ ’ answer for too much longer. It’s only been a little over a week and he’s already figuring out how to unravel things.

After the game had started up, the tension had alleviated some, but between the noisemakers and the enthusiastic cheers from the audience, it was hard to get a word in edgewise with Kuroo. Luckily, after the second set, the coach for the Black Jackals called a timeout and you used the brief moment to ask Kuroo about himself and clear the air.

“I meant to ask,” he turned to look at you, attentive. “Did the volleyball association allow you a leave of absence until you get your memories back?”

He nodded and your eyes briefly flickered down to the slight smirk at the corner of his mouth. “More or less, they said I can take as much time off as I feel necessary, but they would like it if I at least tried to relearn the basics.” He leaned back in his seat, “I must’ve been damn good at my job if they want _The_ Kuroo Tetsurou back so quickly!”

His cockiness was a welcomed familiarity. “You definitely were! You worked hard, even ended up doing a collaboration with Kenma.”

“Yeah? He did mention something recently about that.” Kuroo looked proud, like he was thinking fondly of Kenma’s success. “Hey, did I work a lot?”

“Mhmm, you worked late and had a lot of trips out of town, but you still–,” you stopped in the middle of your sentence, the end of it nearly falling off the tip of your tongue.

“Still?”

_Still tried to make time for me._

“Still tried to have free time for everyone!”

Thankfully the game started back up before either one of you could continue with more questions or before you could make things worse for yourself.

His use of the name _Petal_ still echoed through your mind, accompanied by the image of tattered sunflowers that had been left at his bedside in the hospital room.

\--

After the game, Bokuto wanted to go out to eat to celebrate their win. Sakusa declined immediately, but much to your amusement the entire team said that if they were going, so was he.

“Kuroo, you’re coming with us! You don’t have a choice, alright?!” Bokuto’s energy was still astounding after the grueling match that he just had, but it was a sight to see when Kuroo ended up matching his friends’ enthusiasm.

“Wouldn’t miss free food for the world, Bo!”

Near the sidelines being interviewed, the coach yelled, “Who said it was free!?”

“Yer gonna come out with us, right?” Atsumu came over and tried to drape an arm around you, but you pinched the skin of his wrist to stop him. “Ow!”

“You’re all sweaty, the last thing I want to feel is your sweat on my neck!” Sakusa grinned widely like you hurting Atsumu in the name of hygiene was his favorite pastime. “I can’t, I have an appointment early tomorrow morning that I can’t reschedule.”

Hinata pouted and Kuroo stared. “An appointment?” The younger one asked.

“Yeah,” you didn’t elaborate, didn’t want to. “Thank you for inviting me today! I enjoyed watching you guys play.”

With a promise to text when you were safe at home you said goodbye and caught eyes with Kuroo, giving him a soft smile before turning to leave.

Halfway towards the exit, you were stopped by a hand grabbing onto your fingers. When you turned around Kuroo was standing there with his mouth open, a question at his lips.

“Can I see you again?”

“Huh?”

“We went to college together and we sort of live together. You can help me put together the missing pieces, right?”

Your fingers twitched in his grip. “I don’t know.”

Kuroo’s eyes softened around the edges and you felt his thumb brush your knuckles. “Can you try?”

For the briefest of moments, you could see the man that loved you in his eyes, swimming near the surface but not close enough for you to grab. Maybe this was your chance to toss out a life preserver.

“I can try.”

\--

On the train ride back you remember that Tetsu mentioned Kenma had given him the picture out of his wallet and that he had _heard_ your laugh.

_He asked me to remember you._

“Kenma, what the hell are you playing at?” you muttered under your breath.

With Kuroo asking for your help to put his memories back together, your thoughts began to spiral out of control. If the doctor that released Kuroo said that he shouldn’t be forced to remember anything then why the hell was Kenma trying to help him along? It was dangerous. Things could go south quickly. Damage could be done. The thought of it made your stomach turn for the umpteenth time. You decided to text Kenma.

  
  



	3. Aster

Over the phone, Kenma tries his best to ease your worries over Kuroo remembering things. He tells you that he hasn’t forced him into anything and he apologizes for the reaction that it caused you, but he stands by what he said and did.

“I only gave him a picture and told him to remember you, y/n.”

The pads of your thumb and middle finger press into your temples as you cover your eyes with your palm. “I know Kenma, I know. I’m worried things will go bad and-,”

“And nothing,” he cuts you off sternly, “he’ll remember you. It may not be immediate, but he will. Let him spend time with you; it’s not like he has anything better to do.”

The playful jab makes you smile. “I told him that I would try.”

“Good, but don’t just try for him.”

“Hmm?”

“Try for yourself, too.”

A delightful sigh draws itself out of you, silently thanking Tetsu and whatever other force brought this secretly doting individual into your life. “This version of Kenma is much too nice to me.”

He scoffs, “I’ve reached my quota for the next two years.”

“I know you have a secret backup reservoir saved for your favorites.”

“Yeah, it’s secondary name is Shōyō.”

* * *

After spending a few hours with a rambunctious and loud group of people, the quiet of the apartment, although welcoming, seemed odd now. Shuffling your feet towards the bedroom, you pulled off your clothes, only keeping on your undergarments as you dug through the drawer for one of Tetsu’s old shirts. It didn’t smell like him; the threads newly clinging to the lavender scent of the fabric softener you used, but it was still his, so you slipped it over yourself.

Tenderly, you lay in the bed and wrap your arms around yourself, imagining his phantom warmth enveloping you for just a minute. You think of a way to make him feel closer to you; to silence the piercing quiet. Then, you remember the existence of an answering machine and the archives of his voice that are probably collecting electronic dust in your phone.

When you open up your phone app, you see everything that you never deleted; trivial things you let pile up in a sea of forgotten things. Some are from years ago littering the message box; random numbers and scam callers are the primary culprits, but there are a handful from Kuroo earlier this year that your thumb hovers over.

With a lump lodged inside of your throat, you press play on the most recent one.

8/15/18; 2:17 pm: _Hey there baby, call me back when you have a chance. I would love to hear your voice before I have to get back to work. I love you._

You take in a sharp, shaky inhale, and a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. Of course you would start with one of the heavy hitters first. You wondered what made you miss his call. Unless you were swallowed up in your work, you always answered his phone call in the middle of the day.

7/6/18; 11:52 pm: _Headed home—oh_ ** _god_** _, a coworker just threw up—Anyway, I’m on my way home; can’t wait to give you kisses._

This one made you smile. Tetsu had a drinking party after work that day. He came home, quietly stripped himself of his work clothes, buried himself under the covers, and tucked himself against your chest. You were half asleep as you raked your fingers through his hair while he grumbled about how over the top his coworkers had been at the bar. The two of you ended up falling asleep like that, listening to his mumbles and soft breathing.

6/26/18; 4:11 pm: _We have a dragon problem, please call me back!_

The message startled a laugh out of you. Dragons? There’s nothing that brings forward an explanation for this one. You briefly wondered if you had even called him back to ask what the hell he was talking about.

5/5/18; 1:28 am: _My little petal~ do you ever wonder how many microbes are in…in your eyebrows? Oh god—_ There’s a shuffle over the receiver and Kuroo yells at Bokuto— _Bo! There are probably so many microorganisms in your eyebrows, dude!_ –Bokuto’s yell sounds distressed as he mentions something about telling ‘Omi-kun.’

The voicemail ends there abruptly, but you grin remembering how you played back the recording to him the next morning while he nursed his hangover. He had said, _“Bokuto’s going to tell Sakusa-san and he might get a serve to the back of the head.”_

4/13/18; 10:02 am: _I miss you already, I can’t wait to see you soon._

There are more voicemails where he’s called you on business trips in the middle of the night, saying that he just wanted to hear your greeting message since he knew you’d be asleep. This is one of your favorites, it takes your breath away and makes you want to download it so that you could have it forever.

“I miss you too, baby.”

Right as you say that, your phone lights up with a text from Tetsurou himself.

A tiny seed of nervousness planted itself in your chest and your hands were sweaty, but you reminded yourself that you promised him you would _try_. Even if he didn’t truly know what it meant for you to be doing this, if picking up the pieces and holding them out for him to put things back together were what he wanted, then you’d put your heart further at risk for him.

After forcing yourself through your night routine — the repetition works as welcomed normalcy — before succumbing to the coolness of the bedsheets and drifting off, you hoped that tomorrow wouldn’t rake you over the coals.

* * *

The appointment isn’t anything life-altering, but it could be.

Sitting across from a professional that is asking about your life, what you’re going through, and what you hope to gain by attending these sessions is daunting. You’re terrified—terrified that this woman will psychoanalyze you as soon as you share your story, judgment dripping out of the pen that scratches across her paper.

You’re near panic-stricken and try not to be so stiff when she smiles at you.

“Why are you here today, Miss l/n?”

Slowly, you blink, take a deep inhale, and open your mouth.

* * *

**[March 2017]**

_“Baby, I can’t believe you got the manager to agree to you having a garden up here.”_

_Tetsu had just finished helping you lug more soil to the rooftop to fill the elevated planter boxes you purchased; six of them, to be exact. You treated yourself after your book of poetry had been published and it did rather well in sales—very well, said your publisher._

_“I’m a very persuasive person, Tetsu!” The delighted giggle was clear in your words, and Kuroo couldn’t help but kiss you on the nose. “I’m glad he agreed though, I’ve only been living with you for a month, but my green thumb was starting to itch not being able to take care of my little nature babies.”_

_“You’re cute when you get excited about plants.”_

_You hummed, “And you’re cute when you talk about volleyball.”_

_Kuroo gasped. “You take that back!”_

_“Why?”_

_“I’m_ always _cute.”_

_“Oh my god,” you filled the planter boxes with soil once it satisfied you with their placement. “I apologize, your majesty. I won’t disgrace the King of Cute ever again!”_

_He set down different herbs and bags of flower seeds in the locations you had previously specified you would plant them before coming up to you and shaking a packet in your face._

_“I bought something for you!”_

_Quickly, you snatched the packet out of his hand to examine it. “Sunflower seeds?”_

_Kuroo grinned, “I got them from our florist. She said these are specifically bred for pots, they’re a dwarf sunflower.”_

_Your fingertips grazed over the packaging. “‘Suntastic yellow with black center sunflower.’ Did you get me these so you wouldn’t have to keep buying them for me?”_

_He could tell that you were kidding with him and he kissed you on the lips for good measure before whispering against them, “Only during the season they bloom.” He kissed you again. “For the other seasons, I’ll continue to buy them each week until you get sick of it.”_

_“I never will, Tetsu.”_

_With a content sigh, he pulled you into him, arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders as you rested your head on his shoulder._

_“I’m so lucky to have you here with me. It’s so nice coming home to you after work.” Kuroo rubbed his cheek against your head and asked, “Hey, when we get married, should we invite my old professor to the wedding?”_

_You leaned your head back to look at him incredulously. “Married?!”_

_“What?” He snickered, “Does marrying me sound that strange?”_

_“I-I didn’t know you were even thinking about that. I don’t think it sounds strange at all, you just caught me off guard.”_

_“I like you being here,” it was a gentle confession, one that he looked much too embarrassed to have said out loud, but he carried on. “I enjoy hearing you welcome me home after work. I like that I can hold your hand when I’m missing you, even if you’ve been sitting right next to me. I love being able to kiss you good morning and good night.”_

_“Ok,” you mutter quietly. “I get it.”_

_Your own embarrassment overwhelmed your cheeks while you kissed Tetsu quiet; peppering soft kisses on his bottom lip and jaw._

_He said one more thing before you hid in his neck. “I’m kinda grateful that your apartment had a pipe burst. It already feels like we’re married.”_

**[November 2018]**

You tell Tetsurou to meet you on the roof because up there, outside, and surrounded by the plants you love so much, gave you a sense of security. If you prune them properly, if you water them, let them sunbathe, and provide them the necessary amount of love, they will reward you for your patience and efforts. Although they are their own living creatures, they are reliant on the care that you give them—your _children_ —and you’d be lying to yourself if it didn’t feel good to be needed by something. Having control felt nice.

The sound of the door squeaking on its hinges caught your attention, and you turned to see his head peeking out of the opening.

“For a building this expensive, they should really oil these doors more,” you sighed.

“Y/n?” The inquiry was cautious, like Kuroo was nervous to be caught in a place he shouldn’t be. It was slightly endearing. “Are you up here?”

“Over here, Kuroo.” The sing-song lilt of your voice had his head snapping in its direction and a grin lit up his face.

Finally, stepping all the way out of the doorway, he sauntered towards you with his eyes wide in awe. “I wouldn’t think they would allow residents on the roof, but look at all of this!”

Some planter boxes were filled with asters, pansies, and roses. He moved in close, looking at the different soils and fertilizers you used for each flower species, and admiring their bloom. The other boxes held herbs of different varieties, sectioned off nicely in their own beds.

Kuroo pointed at the ones he could recognize and named them aloud. “Cilantro, sage, and,” he paused for a second, “are those chives?”

“Correct on all accounts, Kuroo. I grow a lot, so I give the other tenants the option to have some for cooking if they’d like. It’s fun. My flowers are off limits though.”

You felt his eyes on you as you inspected the beds of soil, making sure that there weren’t any invading insects or disease on the leaves you may have missed.

“Do the flowers have meaning?”

“What?” You reprimand yourself for being startled by a natural question. He was bound to ask you again, after all, he was the curious type.

Kuroo was too preoccupied by the flowers to hear the fluster in your voice. “They have special meanings, right?”

“ _Right_ ,” you turn around to face him with a carefully fabricated smile. “Which ones do you want to know about?”

He pointed towards the asters he stood in front of, admiring their delicate purple petals. “How about these?”

If you could see the future, you would have never planted those flowers. Their soft beauty made them eye-catching by themselves and their meaning, though sweet to many, laid heavily on you.

“That flower is Aster tataricus, um, they mean remembrance.” The slow fall of his face alerted you to the fact that he understood he might have chosen the wrong flower to ask about. “You would gift it to someone to tell them, _‘I won’t forget you.’_ ”

“I’m sorry,” it’s a soft utterance. He seems dejected now. Like he was trying to make small talk, get you more comfortable with his presence by asking questions about things you were interested in. He looks as if he’s about to call it quits on lunch. “Should I not have asked?”

“It’s nothing like that! You shouldn’t have to apologize either, you just caught me off guard with your question. It’s something you asked when we first met, but the asters meaning hit a bit close, ya know?”

“I’m s-,”

“Don’t apologize!” This time, hoping to ease the small amount of tension built up, you smeared a bit of dirt onto his cheekbone. “I’m gonna pick a few of these herbs and then we can head back in to eat!”

You could push things aside. Bury them down deep like you had told yourself in the hospital. For him to heal. For him to get back whatever he lost, even if it meant filling in the blanks that didn’t have you. Everything was for him. You loved him, and for now that was enough.

Kuroo’s smile was back, and he laughed while he rubbed off the dirt. “Alright, then. What are we eating?”

Cutting a few stems of cilantro, you hummed. “Has obaasan made your favorite since you’ve been back?”

A quick glance over your shoulder at him gave you an answer. His eyes sparkled and his mouth was wide open in a grin.

“No!”

“Then I think some salted mackerel pike is on the menu for lunch today.”

When you turned back around, Kuroo took the cilantro out of your hand and gestured for you to walk ahead of him so he could follow you to the apartment.

“I know we’re friends, but I have a feeling I kept you around for the food.”

“Oh-ho! Yes, it was one of the things I used to bribe you into allowing me to crash at your place. You’re basically a bottomless pit.”

“Mm, I blame my incredible fast metabolism.”

You did your best to wipe off your hands in the towel you’d brought up with you, expelling the excess dirt on them before shaking it out of the fabric. You walked past Kuroo towards the door, expecting him to follow, but he hung back for a fraction of a minute, staring at the large pot of what he assumed were dwarf sunflowers.

“Sunflowers,” he mumbled quiet enough that you couldn’t hear. “This late in the year?”

When you noticed that he wasn’t behind you, you called for him. “Kuroo, are you coming?”

“Yeah, sorry! Wanted to get one last look at all the colors. I’m sure it’s nice going up there every day to see them.”

_It used to be;_ you thought. _Colors don’t look the same anymore._

* * *

Kuroo liked the way your eyes softened when you talked to him as you cooked. He sat at the island in the kitchen and asked about your current work, and when you told him what you did, he leaned forward more to listen. You explained that you wrote all sorts of things; you tried your hand at whatever flowed from your mind to your fingertips and onto the page. More recently, you had published a small book of poetry under a pseudonym—you left out the part that Kuroo suggested you do that if you were concerned about the public eye. Kuroo seemed even more interested and asked further about your profession, wondering if there were any poems or bodies of work that you thought of often.

He watched as you paused in your movements to think; head tilted towards the ceiling with your tongue poked out to move slightly over your top lip.

“Well, there’s a hilarious short story that I read in college called, _‘It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers,’_ and I truly think about it often. Especially around this time of year!”

The sound of Kuroo’s laughter filled the room and you bit your lip to suppress your own. This felt so _good_.

“You should send that one to me!”

“Sure, I can do that for you.” Thinking further, you remembered a small piece that you have written in just about every journal you own. “On a more serious note, something that I personally think about a lot as a writer is the haiku, _A Poppy Blooms,_ by Katsushika Hokusai. It’s simple, but incredibly vivid: _I write, erase, rewrite / Erase again, and then / A poppy blooms.”_

Something in the way your eyes close, like you’ll find the words of the haiku etched behind your eyelids, and the way your mouth forms around them makes something in Kuroo stir. If this is how you were with him naturally when you weren’t anxious about his memories, when you showed him your roof top garden, when you spoke about things you loved, then there was no way that this feeling inside of him could be new.

This recent version of him has known you for two handfuls of days, has interacted with you once more outside of the hospital, and he already feels a burning in his lungs and a fond ache in his chest. The old version of him saw much more of you, knew much more, and probably helped you with your plants whenever he could, and for a brief second he pondered the theory of loving you.

His brain tries to put a puzzle piece in an empty spot, but it doesn’t quite fit.

What if the man he was before the accident was secretly infatuated with you, and the petals in his pocket were part of a bigger bouquet meant for you, too? Kuroo thought back to yesterday when he asked you if there was something more he wasn’t being told, and now he thought that his own feelings were the ‘ _more’_ he had been looking for. Silently, he settled on this thought before a pain burst behind his eyes.

_There are glimpses of him hugging someone with his face buried in their neck._

_Camera shutters of laughs and hand holding._

_Blurred shadows of slow dancing._

He couldn’t make out the person with him in any of it, but a faraway voice said that it could be you.

“Kuroo?”

He could hear you, but it was difficult for him to answer. The images were still flashing. They moved along too quickly for him to see, but if he focused hard enough, he could hear a voice. There was a familiarity in its tone that had his throat tight and the muscles in his chest constrict, but he couldn’t make it out. _Why_ couldn’t he make it out!? It was _right there_ , if he just—

A gentle grip on his wrist had his eyes flying open with a soft gasp slipping out. When he met your gaze, there was concern etched in your features and he wanted so badly to soothe the worried lines away.

“I’m sorry,” he forced out, throat still tight. “I saw some things; memories, I think. I thought they were important, but I couldn’t get a good enough grasp on them.”

You gave him a glass of water and stepped around the bar top to sit next to him. “You looked like you were in pain. What is it like?”

After downing the glass, Kuroo massaged his temples and tried to explain what occurs when he sees things. “That picture that Kenma gave me triggered the memory for me like a movie trailer, but other times when I try to remember things they come in flashes. They’re snapshots of the full picture and that’s what happened a minute ago, but I think I was getting much more than just one and it nearly overloaded me.”

“So it hurts?”

“Like a headache, but this felt worse. Almost like it was turning into a migraine or, if I pushed it far enough, I could’ve passed out.”

“I’m glad I got your attention then. The last thing we need is another trip to the hospital, hm?”

You got up out of your seat and immediately went back to cooking with your back turned to him until you finished.

After that, Kuroo noticed the way your hands shook when you handled the cookware, and he made a mental note that the images snapping behind his eyes have probably all included you.

* * *

After lunch, you pointed Kuroo towards the bedroom and told him to look around and take what he wanted because after all, everything was his. Before your appointment, you forced yourself to move everything that was yours into the guest room turned office. There was still a bed, so if he happened to wander in there it would be entirely incriminating, but the thought still made you fidget.

Your heart swooped nervously as your brain painted disaster scenarios of what Kuroo might find. He’d been taking a rather long time in the bedroom, so you tiptoed your way towards the door.

When you got there, he was staring at the few pictures left out on the furniture. Looking at him in the bedroom almost made things feel normal again.

_Almost_.

“You know, you can move back in whenever you’d like.” The thought slipped off of your tongue before you could stop it.

Kuroo acknowledged your words, but didn’t avert his eyes from the pictures on the wall. It was like he _knew_ things were missing with the furrowed look of his brow and the pursing of his lips.

“What’s got your brain working so hard over there?” It was a nervous inquiry, one you hoped wasn’t an obvious interrogation by the sound of your voice.

“Wanted to see if any of these would trigger something.” There was a forlorn expression on his face when he turned his head slightly to answer you, and instantly, there was a stone stuck in your throat.

You took a few steps forward and pointed at the first picture in front of him. “This was right after you went into business with Kenma. I bought you guys this cake to celebrate, but had a pie for mister Kodzuken on standby.” Kuroo blinked owlishly at you. “Obviously in this one it’s both the Adlers and the Black Jackals in a picture with all of us.” You grabbed the picture and leaned into him to point out everyone from his high school years. Honestly, it was surprising that you could place everyone properly.

“Wait,” he tapped your wrist to halt your words. “Why are you telling me all of this? You had a panic attack when I told you I was remembering things.”

“I thought I handled your episode in the kitchen rather well.”

“You did, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. There’s no point in making us both feel shitty.”

_Too late_ , your inner voice chortled.

You huffed, “Tetsu, you asked me to try to help, so this is me trying! Now follow me to the living area, there are more pictures to explain. You’ve made a lot of memories in the last couple of years!”

You didn’t notice the slip up of his given name, but he sure did.

And the tattered sunflowers sitting in the vase on the bedside table? Yeah, he saw those too.

* * *

**[December 2018; Present]**

Therapy is horrible. You hate that she makes you repeat what happened each and every time you’re there. It’s maddening, and it does nothing but be a constant reminder of the pain you’ve caused for Tetsu, yourself, and everyone else in his life. The guilt fucking eats at you and there’s little to nothing she has provided that feels like you’re being moved in the direction of letting go.

Talking is nice. You like the parts where she allows you to speak about him and the way you’ve allowed yourself to get closer to him in the last month. How the two of you have sat together, coffees in hand, while you help him try to remember certain things. Of course, you leave out the events that involve you. Leave out the dates and the kisses and the way he would drape himself over you after a long day.

You leave out the things that make you feel whole in hopes that you can help fill him up instead.

Things are still dull without him around. You can’t smell the rain anymore. The color yellow is much paler than before. Paper feels much more course underneath your fingertips. His favorite dish doesn’t taste like much if he isn’t there. You miss the way his hair feels against your skin after a shower.

Maybe you need a new therapist.


	4. Hydrangea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is entirely set in December of 2018, which is currently the “present,” unless specified otherwise. (flashbacks/dreams will be in italics) <3

_“Are you procrastinating again?”_

_You looked up from the couch at your boyfriend. He was loosening his tie while he gestured at your laptop. Kuroo came home on a Friday a bit agitated. He looked stiff, the usual relaxed calm of his face taken over by a sardonic smirk. It made you uncomfortable._

_“I have writer’s block, Tetsu. I’ll get back to writing when I’m done watching this movie.”_

_There was no point in continuing the conversation when he was like this. Early on, you recognized that when Kuroo wanted to help try to motivate you or nudge you in the right direction; it was always on the side of teasing aggression. He was observant to a fault and could always identify a person’s potential before they could recognize it themselves. He had never tried it on you, but something about the mood he was in made it feel like he was about to._

_He trifled around in the kitchen for a minute before coming back to stand by you and the couch, watching you with heavily hooded eyes._

_He cracked open a beer and asked, “How is it coming along, did you pick the theme and outline for the poetry book?”_

_You had been trying to figure it out all week; picking a theme was difficult. It not only set the entire tone for a single poem or short story, but the entire book itself. He was asking such a question so_ lightly _. You had so many poems, dozens upon dozens, littering the pages of your journals and the documents of your computer. It was more complex than just closing your eyes and pointing out a few pieces you hoped would work._

_“No,” your tone was heavy and deadpanned. “I haven’t.”_

_Kuroo sipped his beer. “You should probably get on that. Don’t want to prove your parents right, do you?”_

_The space bar made a loud slapping sound when you pressed it. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Tetsurou?”_

_With narrowed eyes and a grimace, you looked up at the man who merely shrugged. “They said you weren’t disciplined enough to follow through with your writing, remember? Procrastinating only makes what they said true.”_

_In the back of your mind, you knew that this was his misguided way of trying to aggravate you towards motivation. To get you angry enough to want to push forward and prove your parents wrong, but the sharpness of his words and the way he made it seem like he sided with your unsupportive parents rubbed you the wrong way. There was a fire in your belly, sure, but it was anger and disgust targeted towards him instead._

_You shut your laptop and stood up to shove it inside of your bag. “I know you like to push people’s buttons to motivate them, but there are some lines you shouldn’t cross.”_

_“Wait, are you mad?”_

_It was the fact that he didn’t even understand how shitty his statement was that pissed you off further. You spun around on your heels, slinging your bag over your shoulder in the process._

_“I don’t know, tell me more about how my parents have never had faith in my writing abilities and that by taking time to put in actual thought into my first published book, I’m proving to them that I’ll never fucking accomplish anything!”_

_His eyes were wide, and he quickly set down his beer before hurrying to you. “Y/n, that’s not what I said_ or _what I meant I-,”_

_“That’s what it sounded like and that’s how I took it.” You evaded his outreached hands and moved toward the entryway to slip on your shoes. “I’m going back home.”_

_Kuroo groaned, “Petal, come on. I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day and my words came out much harsher than I intended them to be.”_

_“You still intended them to be harsh.”_

_His mouth was agape, but there were no words spilling out._

_“I’m still upset and I don’t have to accept your apology right now. Call me tomorrow when your ‘long day’ dickish attitude disappears.” You opened up the front door and took a step out, but turned to look at him once more. “There’s food in the fridge for you, stupid.”_

_The next day, you found Kuroo at your door with a new bouquet of blue, purple, and green hydrangeas, food, and another small bag._

_“Hi,” he breathed with a sheepish grin. “I’m really fucking sorry for what I said last night. May I_ please _come in?”_

_“Mm,” you stepped aside to wave him in. While he slid off his shoes, you spoke. “You’re allowed to have bad days, but you aren’t allowed to say stuff like that when you know it’s going to hurt me.”_

_Tetsu followed you further into the apartment and only stopped to set the items on the low table next to him. “You’re right, I know that you don’t really respond well to how I tend to motivate people, but even what I said about your parent’s last night and how I said it was crossing a line. I truly am sorry.”_

_You looked down at the table, staring at the gifts he brought to help mend the issue between the two of you. “Did you ask the florist which flowers to give for an apology?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Did she scold you?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Good, then I forgive you.”_

_You caught how his entire body relaxed at your words and relief flooded his features. “Thank god, can I kiss you now?”_

_As a response, you puckered your lips and grinned when he wrapped his arms around your waist to press a large kiss to your lips. He muttered apologies after each kiss, one after the other, until you were giggling and pushing him away._

_“Wait, wait. I have a gift you haven’t seen apart from the flowers and food.” He pulled out a box from the small bag and opened it up. “It’s a sunflower that opens up in the middle. It has my initials in it so that when you second guess yourself and your abilities, you can look at it and know that I’m always here to support you.”_

_You reached out to touch the etched details of the flower before looking back at your boyfriend. “Can you put it on me?”_

_Tetsu kissed the delicate skin of your chest before he fastened the necklace around your neck._

_“Do you like it?” His fingertips grazed the links of the chain before smoothing over the sunflower pendant at the end._

_“I love it.” You smiled, “It’s pretty.”_

_“Wanted it to match you.” The look on his face, soft eyed and grinning, mirrored your own. “I really am sorry. You’re much too hardworking and strong willed to ever prove your parents right, and I apologize for ever using their words to try to force you forward.”_

_“Thank you, baby. Now, tell me why you were in a mood yesterday.” You bumped your forehead gently against his, ready to listen._

_If you were a sunflower, then he was the sun whose light you craved and grew towards, reaching out eagerly to hold on tightly to._

In the dead of night, you jolt awake from the dream, hand reaching out desperately to find the lamp and have a light source to anchor yourself to. Squinting as it flickers on, you exhale heavily and try to adjust to its brightness.

Like most relationships, yours wasn’t perfect, although sometimes it felt as if it was. It was rare to fight, having decided after that first one that you’d both do your best to communicate your feelings and work through things like adults, but you were human beings. Not everything worked out that way. Sometimes petty anger got the best of you; twisting up your insides until all you felt was that _one_ emotion.

That dream, that first argument, made you think of the last phone call you had with Tetsu when he was still yours. It was the night before his birthday. He had promised to be home by 6pm for his birthday dinner, you’d worked on the meal for a while, had presents, everything was ready but it was 7:30pm and you hadn’t heard from him.

When you close your eyes, you can hear his voice apologizing for being late over the phone. The way you answered each one with an ‘Uh-Huh,’ and, ‘Ok, Tetsurou.’ The worst sound that screeches in your ears is that of the accident and the crunching of the metal in the vehicle.

 _He’s lucky the only major injury he sustained is from hitting the driver’s side window on impact, aside from a few cuts and bruises._ The doctor had made everything seem like it was fine, but you supposed no one predicted he would lose part of his memory.

You rubbed your eyes, stray tears being blended into the skin of your cheeks. Turning back to look at your bedside table, the sight of the neglected flowers drooped over in defeat looked how you felt.

The last bits of the sunflowers you had taken from the hospital have wilted. There is mold in the vase that lies on the surface of the water and clings to the shriveled stems. There are petals, dried and curled up at the edges, that have fallen around it, only a meager few still hanging onto the center. Part of you wants to wash it out with delicate precision; scrub the corners and crevices of the glass like it’s the inside of your mind. Hoping that one day it can be filled with the flower once more, but the pessimistic part of you never wants to see a sunflower again.

* * *

It’s been a month since the accident. December’s been nice to you so far; Kuroo has been making it his mission to incorporate you into his life at least twice a week. He asks you more about his memories, pictures he’s found on his phone—the ones Kenma deemed safe, of course—he texts you good morning, and checks in on your work while making sure you’ve eaten. Things seem relatively okay for now, your friends even stop walking on eggshells around you most of the time but it becomes harder, the more comfortable they get again around you and Kuroo, for them not to slip up.

Bokuto’s the worst, second to only Hinata, but they meant well. Lev, Alisa, and Yaku came to visit briefly, and Lev asked how you two “lovebirds” were right in front of Kuroo. Alisa and Yaku dropped his height by more than a foot that day.

Atsumu, on one occasion said, as a joke when he was a bit drunk, “Date me if he doesn’t remember,” when he thought Kuroo was in the other room, then promptly started choking on his beer when Kuroo came back, thankfully drunk himself, asking, “who’s dating if they don’t remember what?”

So, despite a few slip-ups here and there that sent your blood pressure skyrocketing, things were _good_.

The only issue was that Kuroo started seeing more memories the more he hung out with everyone. He told you that he started writing everything down because sometimes the pain in his eyes and temples was so excruciating that the images didn’t always stick around for long.

What worries you is that there are memories he’ll tell you about, quickly trying to regurgitate them loudly and out into the open, but then sometimes he won’t say a thing. His eyes will screw shut, he’ll lower his head and his body will go rigid.

Recently, none of the memories he tells you about involve you and it would be a lie if the disappointment was never clear on your face.

“Ken, do you think he’ll remember me? He seems to be gradually getting back memories whenever I go through pictures with him, but because I tucked away everything to do with me, and no one else is mentioning us and our relationship, I don’t think…”

The sentence stuck in the middle of your throat and you let it stay there. Kenma blinked at you lazily, waiting patiently for you to finish. But when you didn’t, he looked back at his phone and continued tapping away.

“Y/n, I’m being forced to have a party.”

The blatant change of subject was hurtful, but you went along with it. Kenma was probably tired of listening to you go back and forth about Kuroo remembering things. He probably thought you were giving him whiplash; wanting Kuroo to remember you one minute and then scared over it the next.

“A party?” He sighed and sat next to you on the couch, Kenma looked more tired than usual. “What kind of party? I can probably get you out of it by telling everyone that you’re too busy consoling me.”

Kenma shakes his head, “Shōyō thinks it would be good to have everyone together for Christmas Eve and I have a place large enough to invite all of our old acquaintances. It could even be good for you.”

It wasn’t a horrible idea. Getting Kuroo around people he was familiar with would do wonders for his mood and maybe even his recovery. If the pictures helped, why wouldn’t seeing them in person? And, Kenma was right, it could be good for you as well.

That being said, Kenma hated crowds and would much rather not have a large gathering of people shoved together in his house.

“Do you want me to help?”

He blinked at you, seeming a bit dumbfounded by your extended helping hand. “Would you be up for it?”

“I don’t see why not? I don’t exactly have anyone to spend it with. We could order chicken or I can cook. It’s going to be a lot of people if you’re extending the invite to old friends. I’m going to need a list if you can get that for me,” you got up and went to Kenma’s kitchen for a napkin and a pen, brain already working in overdrive of possible necessities for the party as you plopped back down next to him. “Drinks, alcohol—oh, I’ll need to know if someone has allergies, but if you get me that list I can call myself. Hm, maybe little gift bags for everyone. I’ll have to make sure you have disposable plates, cups, and utensils so no one messes up what you have now. What do you think?”

When you turned back to look at Kenma his eyes were wide and he was fidgety. “You… you’re basically a machine.”

 _A machine?_ For a second, you were confused, but then it clicked that he had never seen you in hostess mode before.

His amazement caused you to titter. “Sorry about that, I do sort of shift gears for parties. But that’s good news for you! I’ll take care of most of what needs to be done and all you have to do is give me a list of names and maybe a few phone numbers if you think I don’t have them!”

Kenma nodded with a small, but noticeable upturn of his lips as he went back to his phone, probably to message Hinata back.

You absently doodled a Christmas tree onto the corner of the napkin. Planning a party would be a pleasant distraction.

Perhaps getting Tetsu a gift would be a good idea, too.

* * *

**[December 23rd]**

The planning was simple. It kept your hands, mind, and days busy. You sent the invitations out, the RSVP’s received—Kenma explicitly said that if someone showed up at his house without a Rsvp, they didn’t get food. You had to put that on the invitations as a little disclaimer just so everyone knew what they were getting into. Kenma was completely and terrifyingly serious.

Shōyō would be happy. Everyone that he wanted to come had Rsvp’d, even the Tanaka’s were coming despite the day being a romantic one for couples.

The food had been figured out — “ _A menu, y/n? Are you crazy?_ ” — and all the ingredients for the dishes you’d be cooking at Kenma’s were bought and taken care of. He had watched as Atsumu, Osamu, and Bokuto created an assembly line to carry in everything you had gotten from the markets.

Osamu had even offered to cater. The older twin essentially threatened not to come if there weren’t piping hot onigiri waiting for him to consume. _“Don’t come. Cry at home without a girlfriend while everyone else has fun without you.”_

Bokuto dragged Atsumu into a headlock and spoke with a loud exuberance that Kenma noticeably cringed at. _“Tsum-Tsum! You can’t stay at home and cry!! Y/n is working so hard to make everything perfect and Hinata would be sad if you didn’t show up!”_

 _“I wouldn’t cry!”_ Atsumu had pouted. _“Fine,_ fine _. I’ll come whether ‘samu brings his_ stupid _onigiri or not.”_

* * *

After Bokuto and the twins left, you had closed yourself off in Kenma’s kitchen to prep for tomorrow. There were desserts that needed to be made in advance so they could sit and settle in time for the festivities. Baking was one of your favorites. Although cooking was relatively easier — you could wing measurements and substitute ingredients easier than with baking — creating sweeter treats temporarily took away the bitter stressors of your life. Thankfully, Kenma’s house and his refurbished kitchen blessed you with two ovens to work with.

Yet, while things are rising in the ovens and the smell of the apple pie permeates throughout the area, the intrusive thoughts slink back from the shadows of your mind. They never truly leave; only quieted by the louder parts of your brain that provide commentary and tell you not to mess up the measurements.

  * _Don’t overload the sugar.  
_
  * _Four egg yolks for the crème brûlée, put the whites on the side for the meringue.  
_
  * _Kenma likes thinner apple slices because he likes the pie to be nearly overloaded with them.  
_
  * _Less cinnamon.  
_
  * _Ask if he wants homemade whipped cream on the side.  
_



You try not to think about how the temperature on the oven is probably an approximation of the number of times you’ve thought about telling Tetsurou that you love him, but had to bite your tongue each time.

You try not to think about how it’s been a month and you still sleep in his clothes. Hoping that he walks back through the front door of the once shared apartment and tells you he’s remembered everything.

You try not to think about how the month you’ve spent together has been sweet and kind for the soul. Gentle flirting and loud laughs while it feels as if the two of you are the only ones in the world again.

You try not to think about how the memories he’s been getting back have somehow made him feel even more distant than when he looked at you and asked, “ _Who are you?_ ”

When the buzzer goes off, you blink away the burn in your eyes and offhandedly realize that you’d been standing there for an hour. The crème brûlée has finished and needs to sit in the fridge overnight before the top layer of sugar is added.

Upon opening the oven, there is a hot puff of steam that coats your face and you must fight the urge to pull the scalding pan out with your bare hands. For a second, you allow yourself to be satisfied with the rise and color of the custard dessert, but the next has you questioning whether you’re enough.

Another thirty minutes later, and the apple pie has finished. You made the whipped cream for Kenma anyway, even if he ends up not wanting it, you can use the cream for the custard or even the brownies that’ll be made later.

“Kenma,” you call. “The pie’s finished!”

The pie is for him alone. A thank you for his efforts, for the party, for his friendship. He likes it hot, preferably right out of the oven, but you always warn him against it. He’ll burn his lips and his taste buds, and then how in the hell is he supposed to enjoy it?

Kenma walks into the kitchen, eyes immediately trained on the steam wafting pie and makes little finger flutters at it. You’re already cutting him a slice and laying it out on a plate before he can even say anything.

“Do you want whipped cream? It’s homemade.”

He hums, showing he does, and watches as you pull out the piping bag you had prepared, just in case. You can feel his eyes on you when you line the pie with the cream. It must be obvious to him that something’s wrong. He’s always been able to tell and sometimes you don’t want him to ask, but lately it’s all he ever does. _He asks._

“You look off, y/n, what’s wrong?”

You lie to him. “I’m fine!”

“You’re lying.”

With a smile that will never reach your eyes you say, “No I’m not!”

He doesn’t buy it, but you want him to and maybe he can see it in your eyes. Maybe there’s something in them that is pleading with him to let it go, to just enjoy the apple pie and let the sadness burrow itself down. You’re allowed to still be upset. You’re allowed to be scared for tomorrow. You’re _allowed_.

“Ok, but if tomorrow is too much for you, then I’ll cancel it.”

A gasp escapes as you think of all the work and money you’ve already put into the party. “No! There’s crème brûlée cooling in your refrigerator and I have plans to make brownies and cheesecake!”

Kenma’s apprehensive expression eased as he watched you continue to list off different desserts and dishes you had planned. He wondered how long you were planning to stay over, if he could help divert your thoughts to video games or movies. Anything he could do to make things in your mind slightly easier to handle. After all, he could only imagine how tomorrow would pan out for both you and Kuroo. Yet, he hoped for the best.

* * *

**[December 24th]**

Kuroo texts you, fingers fueled by the bubbling confidence in his belly as he asks if you would like to go to Kenma’s Christmas Eve party with him. He hopes you say yes, wants you to want to be with him the same way he does you. The text bubbles pop up for a few seconds before disappearing, and then your face pops up on his screen for an incoming call.

The speed in which he answers is probably much too eager, but he can hear your giggle when he fumbles with the phone a little and breathes out a greeting.

“You okay, petal?” He doesn’t know why he calls you this, but he knows that the light in your eyes twinkles a bit brighter with each time he says it. It’s enough to have him continue.”

“Are _you_ okay? It sounded like you dropped the phone.”

“I might have.” Kuroo’s cheeks are tinted pink with tiny zings of embarrassment. “Anyway, are we arriving together? I just recently got a car to replace the last one, so I can come and pick you up in style!”

There is a teasing lilt in his voice that he adds to the end of his sentence and hopes that it’s enough to have the heat in your cheeks match his.

“Ah, Kuroo, I’m already at Kenma’s. I have to set up and make sure the food is out on time. Everyone’s supposed to be here in an hour, I’m sorry.”

There goes his hope. It fades away like the rest of the things he’s forgotten. “It’s not a problem, I should have put together that you needed to be there earlier than everyone else. I guess I’ll just see you there then?”

“When you get here, you have to find me as quickly as possible, ok?”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“I have a gift for you and I don’t want anyone else to get jealous of my blatant favoritism.”

Sentences lodged themselves in his throat, and he forced himself to croak something, anything out. “Then I better find you fast.”

“You better.” He could hear you smile around the word. And he had never been so motivated to get ready for a party in his entire life.

* * *

Unfortunately, when Kuroo arrives he is swept along with the number of people there. Far too many of them either haven’t seen him since high school or could not check in since the accident. A lot of them seem to know more about him and his life than he can recall himself. The bits and pieces he was able to glue back together with your help were sticking together delicately, but as he spoke to Daichi, Kai, and even Ushijima, the fragile pieces hardened with the glue. Images became sharper and held more color than they had before, most importantly there was no pain as the memories filled themselves in.

Sometimes he saw you in the crowd, mingling with the others and making sure they were enjoying themselves. Whenever he did, he would try to push through everyone, desperate to get to you, but each time they stopped him with a shout of his name and a pat on the back. _Too many people_ , he thought. All he wanted to do was talk to _you_. He tried to remain respectful and patient, after all these were his friends and people he cared about, but you kept getting farther and farther away from him as the night progressed.

There is one point where you vanish completely. Kuroo could see you in the crowd, nestled amongst the towers of volleyball players, new and old. The last time he caught a glimpse was when you were reaching up to pat Kageyama on his head with Hinata at his side.

His grip tightened around the box in his hand as Lev and Yaku bantered in front of him. He’d have to wait. He’d have to apologize for not being able to get to you with the density of the crowd and the festive music looping in his ears.

* * *

At the end of the night, when the crowd of people dwindles, Kuroo goes looking for you. He has a gift for you, something he kept out of conversation with the rest of his friends so he wouldn’t get teased for his possible crush, but he wants you to feel appreciated. When he went shopping for his Obaasan, the other day he stumbled upon a bowl set that had hand painted sunflowers that danced along the sides. Then, wandering around a random flower shop, he told the florist he wanted to thank someone for being helpful and was promptly pointed towards hydrangeas. They are apparently used to show gratitude and to give as an apology, Kuroo thought he could mean both even if he was only buying you the seeds.

Kuroo comes around the corner into the kitchen and _finally_ sees you. You’re singing and laughing with Bokuto; you look a little drunk and so does his owl-like friend, but nothing extreme enough that he should be worried about anyone getting themselves hurt. At first, it brings a smile to his face because he loves to see you having fun unabashedly, but then Bokuto twirls you around in his arms to the music and there’s a high-pitched ringing in Tetsurou’s ears.

He hears the music playing in the memory’s background, but can hear your voice over it. You’re singing and dancing just like you’d been with Bokuto, but you’re in _his_ arms instead. He has you close to his chest, you’re laughing as he twirls you once, twice, before dipping you and quickly pulling you back up. There is a moment when the two of you are chest to chest and he is gazing into those enchanting eyes of yours before he kisses your cheek and continues to dance around the kitchen while your laughter floods the air.

Kuroo can feel the affection within that moment and can almost taste the kiss you return to his lips. You are now humming what he thinks is _‘Fly Me To The Moon,’_ before you lay your head on him and whisper that you love him.

Somewhere far away from this fantasy, he hears you calling out to him. The familiar piercing pain behind his eyes and in his temples is back, and he’s trying to blink away the blurry images of you and him to see the _real_ you with concern painting your features.

Then, suddenly, he’s falling.

In the last few seconds he sees a blurry vision of you and Bokuto reaching out to him in impossibly slow motion.

Before he passes out, he smiles because his mind is filled with memories of you. Everything is you, you, _you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow by Daughter was something I felt fit this chapter and part of what's to come!


	5. Sweet Pea

**[December 25th]**

The present Kuroo had wanted to give you sits broken on your kitchen table. The pieces are laid out methodically, so you know which pieces go where and which should be glued together first. One piece at a time, you apply the glue. Your hands are shaking and you’re biting the skin of your lip raw, tears are prickling at your eyes as you try to be as steady as possible. Terror rips you apart and guilt eats the remaining pieces. If you can’t fix this broken bowl, then how would you ever be able to fix yourself and the mess you’ve made of Tetsu?

_You’d dove and managed to get to him before Bokuto could. The weight of Tetsurou resulted in the both of you collapsing hard down on your knees to the floor. Your arms had him in a vice-like grip against your chest, hands scrambling to move his head back to look at him. His eyes only fluttered briefly, but wouldn’t open no matter how many times you cried out for him to._

_Bokuto urged his friend out of your arms and laid him down flat. Kenma heard the commotion and was already calling for emergency services while he stayed crouched by his best friend’s side. There was an audience around the four of you. Your crying and desperate mumbling of his name, paired with the concerned whispers of everyone, was a stark contrast to the jubilant melody of the holiday music._

_When the paramedics came, they were able to get Kuroo to respond to them, but hurriedly ushered him in the back of their ambulance after being made aware of his accident and condition. Kenma had squeezed your hand before telling you he’d have Kai and a few others take him to the hospital._

_“Let me go with you!” You pleaded, tears obstructing your sight. But you swore Kenma’s eyes mirrored your own._

_“Take a minute to breathe, the others will bring you once you can do that without hiccuping. I promise to keep you informed.”_

_He disappeared out of the kitchen and your body deflated that much further into the ground. Bokuto pulled you up and left you with his teammates before he requested the help of Akaashi and Tsukishima to tell everyone to go home or meet them at the hospital. His voice boomed out an apology to the people still around while the other two worked through the worried faces of their friends._

_Sakusa had done his best to clean you up. Your face was a mess of snot and tears, and you could see the grimace he had. But he_ still _did his best. Hinata held your hand while the twins wrapped and put away the leftover food. So many more people helped clean up the house before taking their leave and requesting to be updated on Kuroo’s condition._

_They all waited until you were calm enough to move._

Thankfully, only a single bowl had broken. There was still a single beautiful bowl decorated with sunflowers and a small bag of hydrangea seeds. With fingertips tracing the edges of the broken pieces, you wonder what exactly Tetsu wanted to apologize for. Your eyes wander over to the lonesome present tied in red and green ribbon and wonder if it would be a good idea to drop it off at the hospital.

After last night, Kenma had sent you home in the early morning hours. You needed to change, to rest, and to believe that everything would be alright. It also didn’t help that Kuroo-san was incensed by your presence; believing that the entire reason his son was once again laying in a hospital bed was because of you.

When you close your eyes you can hear him, voice dripping in a trembling rage with his teeth clenched.

_“If you would have just stayed away, none of this would have happened!”_

_Kenma stands between you and Kuroo-san; the other guys are at your side, reassuring you that it isn’t your fault, that none of this ever was, but you’re still bowing your head to apologize._

_“I never meant for this to happen. Kuroo-san, I’m s-so sorry!”_

_“That’s enough!” Kenma’s voice is dour enough to invoke the need for silence from the older man. “Kuroo-san, I understand you’re upset, but Y/n did nothing wrong. She’s done well by both you and Kuroo. It was all of us that pushed the two of them back together. And then Kuroo spent time with her himself. If you want to spit your rage at someone, then direct it at_ me _.”_

_Kenma’s words removed the air from the room, and the house fire that was Kuroo-san’s rage extinguished without the necessary oxygen to keep it going._

_“I’m sorry…” his shoulders dropped and he downcast his eyes to the floor. “I don’t want to lose my son, I didn’t mean to take my anger out on any of you.” He looks up to meet your eyes, “Especially you, Y/n.”_

Anyone that wasn’t an immediate family member was told to go home once Tetsu’s condition was cleared of being anything critical or life threatening. Kenma insisted you stay over at his house, but you thought it best if you head back to the apartment to rest. A shower and a change of clothes would do you well. And it had! Although it was now nearly 24 hours after Tetsurou collapsed, you felt slightly better in your body.

Pushing off the table and away from the broken pieces, you went to grab the still-wrapped present, entertaining the idea of delivering it to him for when he woke up. But then, the doorbell chimes and for a split second you’re left frozen in place. No one has contacted you other than the odd text to check in. Bile swelled in your throat at the possibilities of why a random visitor was now at your door.

On tiptoes, you tread carefully to your intercom and upon hitting the button you see that it is Kuroo-san standing with a somber expression. You promptly open the door, terrified of what he may say about Tetsu as you do, but instead, he politely asks if he can come in.

When Tetsu’s dad walks into the apartment, it is like he has come with a storm trailing at his heels. His eyes are sad, but his jaw is set like he’s steeling himself for this meeting with you. Without saying much, you step aside to let him in.

“I came to ask something of you.”

You nod, “Please wait a moment, let me get us tea.”

As you wait for the water to boil your thoughts race amongst themselves over the reasons Kuroo-san has come and what exactly it is that he wants to ask. You’re slightly scared. After what happened, you were certain you’d never see Tetsu’s father at your door again.

Setting the cups of hot tea on a tray, you walked back into the living room only to find him on your floor, sitting seiza.

“Kuroo-san?”

You set the tray down on the table and matched his posture. Suddenly the scary emotion in your chest twists and morphs into a black hole, threatening to suck you in. Then, he brings his hands forward in front of him, bowing with his forehead pressed to the floor, making you go uncomfortably rigid.

“I’ve come to ask you to allow Tetsurou to heal! Please—each day he spent time with you, he would come home with a migraine. Being around you forced his memories to come back in a way that’s been detrimental to his health.”

“Kuroo-san, please get up, you don’t need to-,”

“I do!” The determination in his voice would sound strong if it wasn’t for the desperation that went along with it. “I know what I’m asking of you, I know it’s cruel of me to take him from you more than what I have already done, but I’m worried for him.”

It’s entirely too hard to breathe as panic bubbles up in your chest, numbing your vocal cords and tongue. You tried to catch your breath, tried to take a deep inhale, but everything hurt—burned, and he kept on speaking.

“Please,” he implores, “please leave this apartment and go somewhere he won’t find you. He’s hurting. He’s in pain. His friends are asking for him to remember you, but it is only causing him more harm. I beg you.”

“Ok,” you gasp, trying your best to force out words to help regulate your breathing. “I-I’ll go.”

He finally looks up at you, and his expression shifts into one of unbridled relief. “I can try to help with your last-minute living arrangements-,”

“That won’t be necessary,” you exhale and your chest still hurts. It feels like the worst kind of heartburn. “I have plenty of savings and moving out of the city is best if you want me out of the way.”

“Y/n, I promise it isn’t because I want you out of the way! It’s just—he’s my only son, and after losing his mother, I…” his voice breaks off as he zones out and his face crumbles.

You stand quietly, brush off your legs, and pour a cup of tea. “Please drink this before you leave, it’ll help to calm your nerves. I’ll be right back, I have something for you to take.”

Disappearing into the bedroom, you sit on the edge of your bed with your face in your hands as you give yourself a chance to calm down and recenter. Counting slowly as you take deep breaths in and out, waiting for your heart rate to settle back down to something more manageable.

The dresser in your peripheral looms heavily over you, waiting for you to approach. Sitting on top was the sunflower necklace he had given you after that first fight. With a smile, you walk over and take the time to clasp it around your neck as a final lifeline. No matter what happens after today, at least he would always be with you.

Then, for the first time since the accident, you open the drawer that holds the velvet blue box and remove it from its spot deep in the back. Still, you will not open it. To look now would be the last nail in your coffin; snipping the last bit of thread holding you together. You hold the box in your hands, running your thumbs over the material before wandering back out to where Kuroo-san is nursing his tea.

“This box, I don’t know what’s in it, but I know that Tetsu was going to give it to me at some point.” Resting it down in front of his father, you wander off to grab the Christmas present. “And this,” you sigh, standing in front of Kuroo-san. “This is for him. He doesn’t have to remember who I was before the accident, but I would appreciate it if you allowed him to remember the me he got to know within the last month.”

He agrees and thanks you profusely. Silence settles between the two of you like a graveyard at night, and you hope that he grows tired of your presence so you can be alone. He finishes his tea, grabs the items you have given him, and makes his way to the door.

“Thank you,” he says, for what feels like the twelfth time. “Thank you for letting him go.”

“I love him,” you answer, voice cracking.

And when the door shuts behind him, you stare at it while your eyes begin to swim with tears. A gasping sob releases itself from your chest as you crouch down, knees pressing against your chest.

“I don’t want to leave,” quietly falls from your quivering lips.

* * *

**[December 26th]**

It didn’t take much time to pack the things needed to start somewhere new. Being an excellent packer, it was easy to fit all of your clothes into the large suitcase you had. Packing everything else was more difficult. This time, after all of your toiletries and possessions kept in the bathroom had been tucked away in a separate duffle bag, the items that held sentimental value were the next to go.

Do you take the photos buried deep in a drawer with you, or do you leave them for Kuroo to find? Sending them off to Kenma for safe keeping was another possible option, but he had already done so much for the two of you. Getting those pictures days later after you’ve disappeared out of Tokyo would not be easy on him.

Packing and taking the memories with you was the right choice.

Up on the roof, all the flowers you had grown for the cooler months stare back at you. It was probably best to cut them and gift their last blooms to everyone you cared about. The asters would be a bittersweet gift, but they could be pressed and used for crafts. Pansies were sweet; their meaning was to be thoughtful and caring. But on the other side of that meaning they spoke of memories and asked the receiver to ‘ _think of me_.’

Running your fingers over your abundantly growing herbs, you wonder if one of your friends could relocate them with someone able to care for them. Maybe when Kuroo woke up… maybe he could take care of them.

There is an empty pot without soil, it’s the one he bought you to hold the sunflowers he wanted you to grow. They had died a while ago. December wasn’t a good month to grow them in when they craved sunlight and warmth. Without a proper greenhouse, you could never imitate the environment they needed to prosper.

You think of Tetsu and how he emulated the sun; about sunflowers and how they brought the two of you together. You think of happiness and how it has a physical form in the shape of him. Its sound is his beguiling laughter, and its warmth is his embrace. In the quiet corners of your mind there is a memory of your fingers tracing the lines of his face and you smile, knowing that happiness can also be touched.

* * *

Tetsurou has always known that you had some kind of subconscious awareness of him in the early morning hours. He’s made it a routine since you moved in to snake his arms around your middle, peppering kisses to your neck and shoulders at 5am.

He takes his time with them, making sure you feel each lingering one on your skin. This is how he likes to start his mornings before work, before he has to slink out of bed and start his early day.

He showers, brushes his teeth, gets dressed, does his hair, makes coffee and a small breakfast for himself. He watches the television for any rain in case an umbrella is needed, then when he’s finished his coffee, he walks back into the bedroom to kiss you goodbye.

Only this time, you’re not there. He thinks you’re playing a game with him. Hide and seek this early in the morning? Searching the apartment proves to be futile. You are nowhere to be found. He calls for you. Yells. Screams.

The next time he blinks, everything is gone. Every trace of you ever being there has disappeared. Like you never even existed. The apartment is bleak, any and all life that had settled into its walls evaporated with you.

Kuroo’s voice is hoarse and there are tears in his eyes as he heaves out your name into the echoing apartment.

“Please come back,” he cries, “please don’t go.”

Suddenly, there are muffled voices that he can’t make sense of, but he follows the direction they’re in.

_“…is he…”_

_“Doc…okay…”_

He stumbles back out of the bedroom, through the living space, and straight to the entryway. He can tell that the voices are on the other side of the front door, louder than ever. He can make out what they’re saying now.

_“He should wake up soon.”_

His dad.

_“Kuroo-san, have you heard from Y/n at all?”_

Kenma. But he asked about you! He could get to you, he could make it out of whatever place this was and find you.

Tetsurou gets to the door, but he can’t open it. He jiggles the doorknob only to find that it’s jammed shut.

_“She left.”_

He freezes, eyes wide.

_“What?”_ Kenma sounds serious, deadly even. _“Left where?”_

His dad sighs, _“Somewhere Tetsurou and nobody else will find her, Somewhere outside of the city.”_

_“Why would she do that?”_

_“My son was forcing himself to remember things for her sake, I’m sure she felt guilty with him being back in the hospital because of it.”_

Kuroo jolts as he feels a heavy, warm sensation on his forearm. He thinks that maybe his dad has touched him. He tries desperately to yank on the door again and again.

_“I doubt she’ll ever come back.”_

He pounds his fists against it, pleading loudly for them to hear him. To tell them to bring you back! He remembers! He remembers every date, every smile, every laugh—he remembers the way your expression fell when he didn’t know who you were. He remembers you carefully avoiding anything that had to do with your relationship with him. He remembers when he finally got you to relax around him again.

God, please, he finally remembers.

He presses his back to the door, sliding down, and closes his eyes. It clicks that maybe the apartment didn’t lose its life when you left, but when he forgot who you were.

Everything looked the same way he’d seen it in the last month. The only difference is that the pictures of the two of you were no longer decorating the walls and shelves.

He wonders how you felt all this time in a space that looked as if it too had rejected the existence of you.

* * *

**[December 27th; 12:10 am]**

The nurses remember you from a month before and take pity on you. He is in the same wing of the hospital as last time, so they let you in at 11pm after hours if you promised to leave before the shift change. They see you brought a vase of flowers with you and you tell them it’s just so he had a little piece of you before you go. One asks where you are going, but you just shrug and say, “Anywhere.”

It’s been an hour now and you’re sat at his bedside, gently tracing over the veins in his left hand with your index finger. His skin is still warm despite the cold winter weather, and a tear hangs off your bottom lashes. Being here like this makes it even harder to leave, but if this was the last chance you had, you would soak in every little piece of his beauty, hoping that this warmth would linger.

Seeing the Christmas gift on the tiny food tray table, you grin and stand up to lean in and press a kiss against his temple.

“ _I love you_ ,” you mutter, and hope that the words are small enough to travel through his ear and to the part of him from months earlier.

* * *

  


* * *

**[December 27th; 3:34 pm]**

When Kuroo wakes up, tears swell in his eyes. It was like he was trapped inside his own body with no one to hear his echoing cries for help. Flexing his hand, he can feel the phantom touches of your fingers from last night and the kiss you left him with. You were _right there_ and he couldn’t move a single inch.

“Kuroo?” Despite the soft muttering of his name, it startles him. He snaps his head in the voice’s direction and notices Kenma, Bokuto, and Hinata.

He blinks a few times to push away the tears before he’s trying to shift himself up in the bed.

“Hey, Kenma.” His voice sounds strained despite its lack of use. “Can I have some water?”

Hinata shoots up and fulfills his request. Kuroo eyes the other two in the room, all too quiet for his liking, especially Bokuto.

Taking several gulps of the water, Tetsurou’s eyes flicker around the room and land on the ribbon-tied box. Right next to it is a familiar vase with three sunflowers standing proudly inside of it and another flower he doesn’t recognize that strongly contrasts against the others.

“She was here.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Kenma sounds dejected, and the melancholic weight in the pit of Kuroo’s stomach only grows heavier.

“Where is she?”

His eyes are bouncing from person to person, but no one will give him an answer. They all look as if the air is suffocating them. Shifting back and forth on their feet or anxiously rubbing their hands together. Kenma is doing that thing when he’s uncomfortable where he never meets the inquirer’s eyes. He hates it. Kuroo hates this feeling. He hates not knowing.

Bokuto shares a look with Hinata, who subtly tries to shake his head and change the subject.

“How about me and Bokuto-san get a nurse in here?”

As they are walking out, Kuroo says, “I remember everything.” Their footsteps stutter to a stop. “Everything about who I am, what I do… who Y/n is and what she means to me. I remember the accident. I remember our argument.” His fingers twist in the sheets. “Did she really leave?”

Kenma looks understandably shocked, so Kuroo has to explain that he heard everything and couldn’t break out of his own mind. His best friend shoos the other two out the door to get a nurse or a doctor before stepping closer to his bedside, grabbing the gift as he goes.

“She did.” Kuroo sucks in a shaky breath, feeling the hollowed rattle of it against his rib cage. “She didn’t answer the door when Shōyō went to check on her yesterday, so I went late last night and again early this morning to look, and-,”

Kenma just shakes his head and Kuroo feels sick as the present is gently set in his lap. “I don’t want this right now.”

“She asked me to make sure you got them.”

“Them?”

“Just open this one first, Kuroo.”

His hands were trembling. This wasn’t something he wanted to do immediately after coming back from the brink of whatever memory cliff he’d been dangling off of. But hearing that you left and had gone somewhere he couldn’t reach you had him too desperate not to ask.

With the ribbons discarded and the lid off, he stares directly into the box to find a letter and a beautifully made resin picture frame. He takes out and unfolds the small bit of paper first.

> _**“Simply your existence is enough.” - Y/n** _

Briefly stealing a glance at Kenma, Kuroo carefully dips his fingers into the box and pulls out the picture frame. Along its clear edges were specks of gold, tiny leaves, and purple flower petals that look like they could be from the asters you grew.

Fingertips drag over the image captured inside like a specimen encased in amber. Your chin rested on his shoulder, face covered with an animal sheet mask; a cute panda. He had on your pink bunny ear headband to hold back his bangs while a shiny holographic peel mask dried on his face.

It was a night he had asked you to go over pictures with him and like every other time; the experiment ended in pain. A migraine settled heavy in his jaw and temples, and pressed tiny needles into his eyes. The pain had been clear on his face and you insisted that you transformed the night into one to do with “self-care.”

Kenma takes the chance to slip him the last thing you insisted he return to Kuroo. He was sure this would be the final straw. The last thing that further tore open the wound of you leaving.

“I don’t know if she opened it, but she was pretty insistent that I give it to you instead of your dad. She was worried he wouldn’t give this back.”

The blue velvet box sits at the edge of his bed and as soon as his fingers touch it, the last bits of Kuroo’s resolve falls apart. Tears finally crest over his waterline and scatter across the resin gift.

“Please help me find her.” He looks up, brows upturned and with a miserably small smile on his lips. “Please, Kenma?”

“Good afternoon! So happy to see that you’re awake. We have a few tests we’d like to run to make sure everything’s doing what it’s supposed to!”

The nurse interrupts with Bokuto and Hinata in tow, with an older figure at their side. Kuroo-san walks in, looking over the moon that his son, once again, was awake, but Kenma caught the way his eyes nervously look over the gift in his son’s lap.

The nurse is already checking the charts, looking over other machinery, and checking the IV drip.

Trying not to draw any major attention, Kenma reaches out and traces ‘O.K.’ onto Kuroo’s forearm.

* * *

**[January 2019]**

New Years comes and goes, and all of your friends you left behind are blocked on your phone. They are blocked because you’re afraid they’d pull you back. Kenma would convince you the way he always does with sharp intuition and persuasive words. He would rope in the other heavy hitters to soften your edges and tear down the freshly built walls.

Staying away from them was a better choice than continuously putting Tetsu at risk. But without him at your side and the constant support of your friends flooding your senses, you were lost. You’re living out of your suitcases; the large one splayed open on the floor with clothes spilling out over its edges. The tiny hotel room leaves no other space for extra mess, but you couldn’t care less. The bed was truly all you needed, you didn’t need nor desire to feel ‘at home’ in any other space. This was just temporary. Temporary until you sorted out everything you were feeling. There is no therapist good enough to listen to your woes, so you begin to drown in the loneliness and deafening quiet of your new surroundings. This new place was supposed to bring you serenity and tranquility with its natural parks, but in the middle of winter, when the trees are barren and the vegetation is buried in white, you can’t help but to feel just as tombed.

A stiff drink or three is easy medicine. It’s much easier to fall apart at the bottom of a bottle when no one is around for you to hold yourself together for.

* * *

In the bar you stumble upon, the three drinks you order are all doubles. The bartender is heavy-handed and you appreciate her for it; she seems new, wet behind the ears as she paces back and forth, although the place is far from busy.

You bite at the tip of your tongue and lower lip, forcing the feeling back into them before you try to speak when she walks by you again. “Are you nervous about something?”

She halts abruptly and gapes at you, probably a bit shocked that you’re able to form words after the drinks she’s poured.

“I don’t enjoy bein’ behind the bar by myself. The boss is supposed t’ come in soon, but I’m still anxious.”

Humming, you look at the time on your phone. It isn’t like you have anywhere else to be. “I can stay here with you until your boss gets here.”

She chuckles, “How is that going t’ make me less anxious? You can’t help me with customers.”

“I’ll yell at them,” you shrug. “No one wants to deal with a crazy drunk lady.”

The bartender thanks you and offers another drink, but you refuse. You’ve got her to watch now, and you were already well at the bottom of your rope, but you ask her to close your tab just in case because you don’t want to become sloppy. That was the last thing you wanted the poor girl to deal with.

One minute, you’re watching her talk to a guy at the end of the bar, fidgeting a bit before she makes her way back in front of you. “That man’s a regular,” she huffs, “but I don’t like the way he looks at me.”

You level him with a glare when his eyes wander back in the bartender’s direction. “Men like him won’t stop unless they’re made to. Even then, you can never tell.”

She’s about to say something again, when her eyes flash up to the sound of the door opening and they glitter in relief.

“My boss is finally here! Ah, Kita-san is with him today, too.”

Taking a second to blink, you turn to look at the two men walking through the door. The name ‘Kita’ is familiar and so is the grey-haired man walking towards the counter. The way he looks at you makes it seem like you’re familiar to him too.


	6. Forget-Me-Nots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so incredibly much for sticking with me and this series this far along. This is probably the smoothest a series has ever been for me. Ever. It was an idea born from a daydream and a couple of songs. I didn’t think I would ever get to share it because I hadn’t written for another fandom in a handful of years, but I’m so happy that I did. Thank you for reading. Thank you for your support. And a special thank you for your comments and love.

**[December 30th]**

_Kuroo is back in the apartment for the first time since getting his memories back. It looks exactly how it did in his head when he couldn’t get out; you’re gone and so is every piece that made it feel like home. He walks through the rooms, trying to see if there’s anything left that he can use to call you back to him; a sweater, a picture, a hairbrush, anything to bring you home._

_On the dining room table is the forgotten, broken bowl. Most of it is already glued together. There is a kintsugi repair kit with gold powder next to it, like you were trying your best to fix it but also make it better. It’s the last unfinished piece that catches his attention, as if you left it for him to find after taking everything else._

_He places the picture you gifted him right next to the bowl and sits down in front of it._

_If he closes his eyes, he can see the two of you together on the couch, your head in his lap as he drags the pads of his fingers up and down your arm. Usually he’d be sitting watching a volleyball game, and you’d nestle your way into his touch, asking without words for whatever kind of affection he could give at that moment._

_He can even see the petty arguments that would occur. Nothing overly serious in the last few years, but there were disagreements that involved eye rolls and words snapped out in aggravation. But each of them ended after the other had cooled down, always with apologies branded against exposed skin with a kiss and promises to do better._

_Together, you learned to communicate efficiently over the years, well enough that it was difficult to keep something under wraps from the other. So when he thinks of the burden you had to bear—not only living with the reality that he did not know you, but that you had to avoid the truth to protect him—he wants to cry._

_When he opens his eyes, the silent apartment stares back at him and asks what he’s willing to do to make it feel whole again._

_He starts by gluing together the last piece of the bowl._

* * *

**[January 2019]**

It takes you squinting to make out a distinct image of the two figures approaching. “Ah, fuck,” you groan and the attention of the bartender is caught by you once again. “I’ve got bad luck.”

“What’s wrong?”

“How the hell is your boss Miya Osamu? He doesn’t run a bar.”

It took a second for the surprise to leave her face, but she answered by pointing to the ceiling. “Onigiri Miya is upstairs. The person who was selling the property was previously running a bar here, too, Miya-san just kept it going after taking over.”

With a click of your tongue, you tap your hand against the counter and get up to leave. “Have a good night, thanks for the drinks.”

Osamu watches you approach, but you ignore him when walking by. “Just where do ya think you’re going?”

“Home.”

Undoubtedly, you want to walk out of there with grace and dignity, but bad luck proves true as you end up stumbling over your own feet. Osamu quickly steadies you, but refuses to let go of your upper arm.

“Cool, let me take ya back t’ Tokyo, my brother’s going insane with worry. Why in the hell did ya leave y/n?”

“Is that any of your business, Miya!?” you snarl. “Leave me alone, I’m not going back.”

“Isn’t she y’r friend, Osamu?”

The man that you assume is Kita-san, the former Inarizaki volleyball captain that you only ever saw brief pictures of and heard about through the twins. He removes Osamu’s grip on you and you roll your shoulders back to stand straight.

When Osamu nods, Kita continues. “Instead of interrogatin’ her, ask her how she is.”

Something about his aura reminded you of Ushijima. The calm, straightforward, matter-of-fact kind of demeanor that he exuded seems to flow off of Kita the same way. It made you want to trust him similarly to how the twins did.

Kita blinks, patiently waiting for a dumbfounded Osamu to take the next step. He sighs like he’d rather be doing anything else other than listening to the command. 

He rubs the back of his neck. “Y/n, I’m sorry. No one’s seen or heard from you in weeks, and I was worried.” With a quick glance at Kita, he asks the fully loaded question. “How are you?”

It takes a minute for you to evaluate your own feelings, and another for your face to crumble.

Osamu’s own expression morphs into one of compassion. “That good, huh?”

“Yeah,” you try to laugh, but the sound is half-baked at best. “That good.”

* * *

Osamu asks Kita to take you upstairs to his restaurant. He tells him that there’s onigiri leftover from earlier that he should get you to eat.

Before moving, you point at the Hakushu 12 Year whiskey bottle with a pouting bottom lip, hoping that he’ll take pity on you. After all, you sacrificed the rest of your drinking time to watch over _his_ bartender.

“If I’m being shoved upstairs so you can have Kita-san interrogate me on my mental health—because I know that’s what you’re doing—then I want to be three sheets to the wind for it, ‘samu.”

With an eye roll, he hands over the bottle. “Don’t throw up my onigiri or I’ll charge ya double.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He watches you ascend the stairs and before Kita follows; he turns his head and nods.

“Did I do well?” The bartender is beaming at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits to be praised.

“Yes, thank you. I’m glad we got here before she left.”

She giggles while continuing to do her job, “All I really had t’ do was act like I was brand new and nervous. She even stopped drinkin’ to keep an eye on me!” Three more drinks are set down in front of new patrons. “I’m surprised she came here instead of somewhere farther.”

Osamu shrugged while he opened up the contacts in his phone. “She doesn’t know Kita, and I’m the only one that travels back and forth from Tokyo to Hyogo for business. We’re damn lucky Kita spotted her, then called me and ‘tsumu.”

“She a runaway or somethin’, boss?”

“Not really, she just needs some help.” Osamu presses his phone to his ear and waits for the other end to pick up. “Hey, yeah, we found her, but-,” He pauses as the other person speaks, “No. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you t’ come now. Give her time, she’s still hurtin’ pretty bad.” Most of the time Osamu would keep out of affairs that had nothing to do with him or his brother. It was easier that way. Less messy. But, for this particular situation, and for you, he didn’t mind a bit of a mess. “I’ll let ya know how things look the next few days, but I ain’t gonna tell her shit about you gettin’ your memories back until I know she can handle it. Understand, Kuroo?”

* * *

Alcohol had never been something you sought to numb pain. Pain was fleeting; whether it cut deep and scarred skin, or too insignificant to see, it was brief and unnecessary to fixate on for too long. But regardless of previous ideologies, lately you found yourself drowning in the liquid more often than not.

You thought of over watered flowers and how their roots needed oxygen to breathe. How the soil you plant them in must be healthy, so oxygen exists in between its particles, and how their leaves begin to grow brown and limp when they’re drowning.

You wonder if you’re doing the same to yourself. Watering yourself with excessive amounts of alcohol, so much so that you’re unable to come up for air, mind muddled and thoughts clouded grey. The soil you’re in is over-saturated, too. When you’re awake, you think of him. When you sleep, he is painted on the back of your eyelids. You feel the edges of your person beginning to rot. It feels like soon enough your limbs, like petals or leaves of a plant, will fall off one by one. You recognize that you’re swimming in your own grave, but you don’t have the willpower to stop.

“Ya look like shit, Y/n.”

Both Kita and Osamu had gotten you back to the hotel; prying the address out of you because you didn’t want to give up the little hiding hole you fell into every night, but the options were to spill your secrets or stay with one of them. Spilling was the only thing that made you feel less exposed.

“Thank you for your kind observation,” you exhaled.

“He’s not wrong.”

Kita was nicer than you expected. He treated you fairly and approached things about your life and Kuroo in a way that made you feel comfortable, but in your current state, he was too blunt for the words not to sting.

“I like to drink.” It was a lame excuse to give for your new excessive habit.

You heard Osamu scoff. “So ya like making yourself feel like ya wanna die?”

“I do it to punish myself, ‘samu. Are you shocked?”

There was no answer from either of them. If you were honest, you kept an ear out for the opening and closing of the door. No one truly wants to hear someone’s self-deprecating habits or the tar pit they let themselves sink down into. They don’t want to sit around and suffer alongside the grumbling self-pitiers. 

Yet, despite the assumptions, there is a cold cloth laid over your closed eyes and a water bottle being pressed into your hand.

Without moving, you ask the only question that has weighed heavy on your mind since you left. “Did he wake up?”

Each passing second that neither one of them answer feels like falling, like the ground has removed itself from under you. A roller coaster drop at 400 feet, but never ending. 

“He did.”

_Inhale_.

“Is he okay?”

The bed dips slightly and you feel someone’s hand at the back of your neck applying gentle pressure, urging you to sit up. When the cold cloth falls away, Osamu is sitting next to you and gesturing for you to drink the water. When his hand falls to the middle of your back, Kita sits on your other side and presses the fallen cloth to the base of your neck not saying a word.

“He asks about you.” _Exhale_. “He doesn’t understand why you left, but none of us really do. Kenma seems to think it’s because of Kuroo’s dad.”

At the mention of Kuroo-san, you visibly tense, and it is then that Osamu realizes Kenma wasn’t all that wrong.

“It’s not just that I-I shouldn’t have helped him to remember. I thought I was special, that I could magically make him remember, even if it wasn’t about me! I was _disgustingly_ selfish. I should have stepped away from the beginning. I should have let him go-,”

“That’s enough.” Kita’s voice rings clear and you turn to look at him. “You can go over all the things ya should have done forever, but there’s nothin’ you can do about ‘em now.”

You snort, “Basically, I should stop feeling sorry for myself.”

“You should stop bein’ so hard on yourself.”

“That’s tough.”

“Most things good for ya are.”

A small smile pulls at your lips, and you turn to Osamu. “You have a smart senpai, you know that?”

Osamu, bless him, looks a bit too emotional himself as he tries to clear his throat. “Yeah, I know.”

* * *

**[February 2019]**

Oddly enough, each time you found yourself at the bar, one or both of them would show up or be there to keep you company. It felt like he had some tracker that was specifically designed to locate you. Osamu was also staying back to ‘keep an eye’ on the restaurant, but you were sure that it really had to do with you. There was no way that he found out where you’d run off to and not told his brother, or possibly even Kenma.

Osamu hovered whenever Kita-san was around or not, like he was waiting for something to happen; perhaps his brother arriving unannounced was that _‘something.’_

“I got tired of waitin’ around back home, ‘samu’s been able to see ya for the last two weeks.”

Kita levels the older twin with a stare. “And here I thought you came all this way t’ see me, Atsumu.”

His deadpan expression paired with the retort forces a laugh out of you. Osamu offers the restaurant upstairs to get away from the loudness of the bar, and everyone escapes to it willingly.

The twins disappear into the kitchen while you and Kita sit at a table and wait. He is often the one left to drink with you if Osamu was too busy managing things to keep company. Try as they may, their aggressive whispering to one another behind closed doors is anything but hushed. Resting your chin on your hand, you press your elbow to the table and lean part of your weight onto it.

“They really don’t know how to keep quiet, do they?”

“They never have.”

After about twenty minutes, the twins burst back into the seating area, red faced and looking like Osamu was about to rip Atsumu apart if only you and Kita weren’t present. They sat the food onto the table and things went back to normal for a while. There was a drinking game that the four of you played, Kiku no Hana, but instead of a chrysanthemum, you used a coin as the object in the game.

The atmosphere, regardless of the biting cold outside, was cozy.

“Why haven’t you come back yet?”

“What do you mean?”

“Kuroo got all his memories back, so come back already.” Atsumu hiccups loudly with a sharp grin. “Stop bein’ a big baby.”

Upon hearing his words, a chilling wind blows in, snatching away the comfortable warmth you had settled into, and suddenly goosebumps are pebbling themselves over your skin.

Osamu must kick him under the table because he barks out a painful protest before clamming up underneath the gaze of Kita.

“That’s a cruel joke, Atsumu.” Voice barely above a whisper, you grip the glass in your hand before knocking it back and pulling the bottle over for another pour.

He whines. “‘m not messin’ around.”

You look up at Osamu, cheeks and eyes burning, but your fingertips feel ice cold and ask, “Is he telling the truth?”

He can’t even look at you. There’s blatant guilt and shame contorting his face. You look at Kita, who, for the first time in two weeks, will not meet your eyes with his natural, confident ease. Your brain tries to piece together what betrayal feels like and if it is too extreme of a feeling for this situation.

The chair skids against the linoleum as you stand, gripping the table so you do not fall over with the effort. The concoction of the alcohol and food in your stomach is a sickening combination. 

“I want to go home.” It’s getting harder to breathe; chest tightening severely and lungs on fire. “I’m going home.”

Distantly, you can hear Osamu berating his brother. Telling him something about the ‘ _wrong place, wrong time_ ,’ and how he was ‘ _waiting until you were mentally ready and not shit-faced_.’ 

Ignoring them, you hold tight to the railing to help yourself down as safely as possible and out into the winter air. Your coat is back upstairs, but the alcohol is still thrumming underneath your skin for you to even register how blistering cold the temperatures were.

“I’ll get ya back. You’ll freeze out here if not.” Kita is standing there with your jacket in his hands, open and waiting. “Come on, the twins will argue the whole damn night. They’ll still be here even after I drop ya off.”

“You take care of people a lot, huh?”

“I do what needs t’ be done.” He helps pull your arms through the jacket and makes sure you’re bundled up before walking forward. “You seem t’ need my help.”

The walk to the hotel is relatively short, but it is also awkward. He has had to catch you from falling no less than five times, but after the fourth time he makes you drape your arm over his shoulders to keep you close and steady.

He’s taking your card key, opening the door, and is suddenly helping you kick your shoes off. Everything happens much too quickly for your brain to catch the actions in actual time, but he keeps your arm around his shoulder even after he gets the jacket off, as if he’s expecting a fall from the door to the bed. When you get further in, there is the distinct outline of a recognizable man. Someone with unruly hair and the softest, brightest eyes you have ever seen. Except the brightness isn’t there anymore. They’re bloodshot and watery, a mere echo of what you remember them being.

“Kita-san, I’m hallucinating now.”

“No, you’re not,” he answers so quickly that a harsh shock of a wail rips itself from your throat and you nearly topple over. He doesn’t let you fall though, quickly getting you to lie on the bed before he’s addressing the person you’ve forced yourself to avoid. “Take care of her. I got a couple’a twin heads t’ knock together.”

When Kita leaves, you feel worse even with your eyes squeezed shut. Everything is too much, too soon. One minute, you’re still under the impression that nothing has changed back in Tokyo, the next Atsumu is spilling secrets he wasn’t supposed to unveil yet, and now the unkept secret is in your hotel room.

Maybe.

There is the gentlest of touches against your hand, the same way you touched him before you left him there in the hospital bed, and a tear slips through your shuddering lashes.

You are dizzy and feel like when your eyes are closed; the world spins faster and faster until it forces you to crack them open for a moment of relief. You see him again and try to force yourself to think they laced the alcohol with something because now you’re seeing shit. Tetsurou is there, in front of you, standing over your clammy body and looking at the once love of his life that has fallen into utter disrepair.

_Don’t look at me,_ you think, _if you were here I couldn’t bear it._

Then you hear your name fall from his lips.

No, you’re hallucinating, Kita lied to you. He isn’t there. He _isn’t_. He can’t be—not when you’re like this. 

“Petal,” he cracks and _god_ you hate the way the name sounds so broken. “Please open your eyes and look at me.”

The next time you crack open your eyes, he is crouched down by the side of the bed with a plastic bin for you to regurgitate into.

“Tell me this isn’t real,” your voice doesn’t sound like you anymore. It sounds like someone has taken over your body; liquor having distorted your trembling speech.

You grip your bed sheets and hold on for dear life.

“I got my memories back.”

The room is spinning again.

“They’re back and I’ve missed you so much, baby.”

Faster and faster.

“Y/n, are you listening?”

You lurch yourself up—bad idea; now you’re light-headed and everything is going dark.

“Why did you leave?”

Snatching the bin out of his hands, you bury your face into it, relieving yourself of the last three months as your stomach constricts. 

Kuroo disappears momentarily and comes back with a cup of water and a towel to clean yourself up with. You take the water, swish it around in your mouth and spit it into the bin before taking another gulp. It is disgusting. It is vile, and although he has seen you with the flu and way more inebriated than you are in this moment, shame flushes over you.

“Don’t look at me,” you choke, “ _please_.”

The coolness of his hand finds the back of your neck before he takes the bin and sets it away from the both of you, but he doesn’t listen to your plea. His eyes pierce you and your shame makes its bed with guilt as you stare back.

“Tell me why you left.”

“How could I not?” He shouldn’t have to find out that his father asked you to leave. “You had forgotten about me and being ‘ _just a friend_ ’ was difficult.” Instead, you would give him half of the truth, just like before. “So after a month of no improvement, I decided I should move on.”

“That isn’t true.” He remembers when you told him how proud you were of him and how he was improving. “You were there helping me. You were making me better.”

You feel odious. This isn’t a conversation you wanted to have in the state you were in. “I put you in the hospital—twice. I don’t think that’s making you better.”

“Have you?”

His hand slides off of your neck to thumb at the sweat-slicked baby hairs stuck to your temple.

“Have I what, Kuroo?”

His movement stutters slightly when you don’t use his given name, but you’re too out of practice. You don’t want to know what it sounds like tumbling out of your cottonmouth and too dry lips.

“Have you moved on?”

Blinking at him lazily, tears pool in your eyes as you take in the fear and anxiety in his hazel ones.

“That’s unfair to ask me.” You lay back slowly and your heart seizes in your chest when Tetsu’s hand falls away from you. “I was asked to stay away, to _leave,_ and when your dad came to me I didn’t see another choice. I had to-,”

“My dad?”

“-And I, I love you so much that I finally let myself listen because he said it was for your own good! You were in that hospital bed again and I-,”

“(Y/n)!” Tetsu’s voice rings out loud enough to stop the frantic explanation of your leaving. “You’re alright, slow down.”

Finally, you turn your head to look at him and reach out to grip his fingers while tears leak out of the corners of your eyes. “I couldn’t bear seeing you like that for a second time.”

Tetsurou interlaces your fingers with his, kissing the back of your hand as he climbs into the bed and tucks you into his side.

“Let me take care of you tonight. Just until you’re sober and you can tell me to stay or to leave. Ok, beautiful?”

Exhaustion is pulling you down into an empty void. The same one you’ve found yourself in whenever Kuroo isn’t there to anchor you back to him, the same one you’ve been swallowed up by since all of this started.

You want to fall into his arms. Thank him for continuing to love you when he had the chance to find something new, someone strong enough to withstand the heartbreak. But the anxiety and self-doubt lurking in the dark corners of your mind have black, shadowy hands covering your mouth.

“Alright, Tetsu,” you say with eyes fluttering shut. Your depressant ladened mind is still not quite certain that any of this is real, that Tetsu being here isn’t just something your subconscious mind conjured up to make you feel less alone.

* * *

It feels surreal to wake up beside him again. Regardless of the pain behind your eyes and the nausea turning your stomach, you allow yourself the time to take in his features. His complexion looks sallow and cheeks slightly sunken. Careful not to wake him, your fingertips reintroduced themselves to the curve of his jaw, the point of his nose, and the plump of his lips. With his arms wrapped securely around your waist, he had you pressed close enough to count every eyelash. Warm breath fans across your face and you fight the urge to drift back off before he stirs.

“G’morning,” his voice is gravelly in the morning. It’s something you’ve missed hearing.

Instead of returning the greeting, you say, “Have you not been eating?”

Bleary-eyed and unaware, it takes a few minutes to process the question. “Food?”

“Yes, _food_.”

Kuroo pulls away in favor of stretching himself out on the nearly too small bed, groaning the entire way through. “Repeat the question, please.”

“Kuroo Tetsurou, have you been eating properly? Your skin looks unhealthy and I can tell that you’ve lost weight.”

It’s infuriating how he just stares at you. Even as you sit up, trying to make your inquiry seem more serious, he reaches out his hand and rubs a thumb over your knee. “Will you be upset if I tell you I haven’t?”

“Yes.”

“Then I won’t tell you.”

When you go to get out of bed, the hand at your knee shoots out to grab your wrist. “Stay!” He blurts. “Please, don’t go.”

He shutters, desperate and scared. It’s obvious that your leaving has made him anxious. After all, he got his memories back and found out you had left with no explanation. It’s just another thing you’ve done wrong.

“I’m sorry,” the apology makes Kuroo tighten his grip, “I was going to take a shower. I need something for the pain in my head and we both need to eat.”

Getting ready opposite one another was silent other than a few polite mumbles of ‘excuse me’ trying to fit around the small area of the room.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask me to leave.”

“Why would I do that?” A soft smile extends slowly to your eyes. “I sort of like you.”

* * *

Kuroo wants to hold your hand. He wants to bury his face in your neck, wrap his arms around you, and keep you close. If he could take away the invisible yet elephant-like weight of the pain, he can see resting on your shoulders, he would. He would bear the weight of it all if it meant you would smile at him the same way you had before; how he could look at you and see the overflowing golden rivers of love for him. His lover’s smile, once as bright as a sunflower’s petals, had dulled.

He sits across from you in the back of a little restaurant and thinks he should start from the beginning. Go back to the very roots of your relationship and gift you with an entire bouquet that screams out all the things he wants to say, but doesn’t know if you want to hear out loud. He will buy you a house and plant a red camellia bush along with red roses across the yard. There will be pots and planters filled with the finest soil, holding forget-me-nots and carnations. He will grow a field of sunflowers for you if he has to. Anything, _everything_ , just as long as he gets to have you again.

What burns a fire of hope in his belly is the sunflower pendant still hanging around your neck.

“How are you here?”

The question catches him by surprise. Kuroo had lost himself to his thoughts as he followed the lines of the palm of your hand. It was the tiniest bit of touch he allowed himself, other than the embrace in bed, but it was enough for now.

“Atsumu said he was on his way to you. I just wanted to see you. Wanted to ask if you’d come back.” You hum, and he sees how your eyes follow his fingertips over the lines of your palm. “Osamu said you were in rough shape. So I stayed away until I couldn’t take it anymore. It was a last-minute decision, and I only got into your hotel room because I said I was your husband.”

You scoffed, “That’s dangerous; you could’ve been anyone, and they just let you in.”

“That’s exactly what I thought!” 

“I’m glad Kita-san was there, just in case.”

As the conversation fell flat, and the silence grew, so did Kuroo’s restlessness. Other than your displeasure of seeing him in a hospital again, he knew that there was an even larger catalyst at play. Kenma had hinted at it, but so had you last night. He needed to know.

“Kenma said he thought my dad did something, and you mentioned him last night.”

“Please don’t blame your father,” you appealed. Your hand suddenly opens further to hold his. “He didn’t see any other choice.”

“Tell me what he said,” he coaxes with two fingers on the pulse point of your wrist. “And then tell me everything else you’ve dealt with..”

The determination ignites in his eyes. It kindles the confidence in your chest, so you nod, take a deep breath in, and speak.

But as you push forward, Kuroo’s brow furrows deeper and deeper until you’re certain the lines on his face will become permanently etched into his skin. You can tell that he’s clenching his teeth and aggressively rubbings his fingers over his eyes. The hand he is holding grips you tightly and you hold on for dear life.

* * *

When you get back to the hotel room, bellies full with appetites satisfied, Tetsurou nearly collapses on top of you. After you explained what his father said, after you splayed out the feelings and things happening to you that he could not see, he became mute. To you, it appeared as if he had to stop himself from crying.

“I’m sorry,” Tetsu is bent over onto you; his hands gripping your biceps while his forehead rests on your shoulder. His voice sounds shaky and you feel something wet soak into the fabric of your shirt. “I’ve left you alone for so long.”

Soft hair tickles skin, and you bury your fingers into it. “You’re here now, aren’t you?” Wet lips mark your shoulder and then lay firmly against your cheek. “You’re here and _you_ _know_ _me_.”

“I am,” he croaks, “I do.”

“I’m sorry, too, you know.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It wasn’t your fault.”

It’s something you’ve heard before. Something you haven’t accepted nor admitted to yourself; it would probably take a long time until you could look yourself in the mirror and say those same words everyone else reiterates.

Your fingers massage against his scalp as he leans on you, and a soft groan is the effect. “I have to so I can move forward. You’ll help with that, won’t you? We’ll move forward together?”

He puts the barest hint of space between your faces. His eyes look brighter than before. “You’ll come back home? You’ll stay?”

“With you? Always.”

Tetsu kisses you. He kisses you like he’s been starving for it, with his right hand buried in your hair and the left at the base of your spine with a few fingers dipping into your jeans. He’s got you flush against him, tighter and more intimate than the two of you have been in months.

He whispers his love for you against your now wet lips before leaving three more tiny pecks to seal the words into delicate skin. You’re clinging tightly, hands twisted into the fabric of his shirt as you frantically kiss every inch of skin available to you.

Against the reddened skin of your throat, he chants the words you’ve been waiting to hear.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

The tears keep spilling even as you pull one another to the bed. Clothes rumpled and bodies burning, he appreciates the view from above you. There is a different kind of desperation in his heavy-lidded eyes, something that cries out a need to have you fully, completely, entirely overtaken by him.

He drags his nail over the chain around your neck, and goosebumps erupt across your chest. “I have another piece of jewelry to give you when we get back.”

“Mm, is it in a blue velvet box?”

A grin appears on his lips, “Yes, did you look inside it?”

You shake your head. “I was waiting for you to give it to me yourself.”

Kuroo dips down to steal another kiss. “Tell me you love me. Please, petal, I haven’t heard it in so long.”

Arms wrapping around his shoulders, you pull him down and recite the words in his ear. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways./I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.”

For a second he lies on top of you, not quite sure what to make of what you’ve said, until you’re urging him up a little to look at you again. Gazing into his eyes, your hands now framing his face, you kiss his left cheek, “I love you today,” his right, “I love you tomorrow,” his forehead, “I love you next year,” and then his lips, “I love you forever.”

It is in that moment that the vividness of color seems to leak back into your vision as you’re able to see the intricate details of Tetsurou’s hazel eyes. Up close it is easy to see that they are speckled with flecks of honey brown and melted gold. Your mind wanders as you think that maybe flowers would finally have a smell again and getting out of bed would no longer be a chore. After all, you hopefully wouldn’t be in bed alone ever again. 

“Hi,” he breathes, chuckling at your awestruck expression. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you more.”

* * *

The day before the journey back to Tokyo, you visited Kita to thank him for taking care of and putting up with you for the last couple of weeks. He produced the smallest smile, paired with soft nurturing eyes, and your knees nearly buckled at the rare sight. He made you promise to come visit if you ever ran away again.

“I didn’t run away, Kita-san!”

“Liars don’t get a shipment of rice sent to ‘em.”

“I’m sorry.”

Then came the twins. You knew they would gloat when you came by — Osamu with his smart ass smile and Atsumu mirroring it in a way that said ‘I told you so.’ Kuroo thanked them for watching over you and helping him to get there. Osamu wrote something down on a sticky note and pressed it against your chest. When you looked down, it was an add up of numbers labeled, ‘ _alcohol, onigiri, and emotional support_ ,’ all to an enormous amount of money to be paid to one Miya Osamu.

_“I can’t believe you’re charging me for emotional support, ‘samu.”_

_“Ain’t_ **_shit_ ** _free around here, Y/n.”_

_“Shut up, ‘tsumu. No one asked you.”_

When you get back to the city Kuroo vocalizes that the two of you have to go somewhere. That somewhere ends up being Kenma’s house.

“I’m going to get yelled at, Tetsu, don’t make me go in.”

Kuroo wraps an arm around you, then presses a kiss to your head. “Take the Kozume punishment, petal. We all have to endure it at some point in our lives.”

At the door you whisper, “Don’t wanna,” right before the door pulls open and Kenma stands there with an impassive expression. “Hi, Ken.”

He doesn’t say a word, but keeps the door open and walks back in expecting the two of you to follow.

“Kenma, come on, don’t ignore her,” he pushes you forward; hands on your shoulders to guide you further into the familiar house.

“I’m not,” Kenma mutters, “there are other people here that have been waiting, too.”

In his living room are your friends. Hinata looks as if he might vibrate out of his skin, while Akaashi tries to tell Bokuto to stop yelling. Sakusa is sitting farther away from everyone else, but is maintaining a conversation with Kageyama. You don’t have the damnedest idea how the twins got here before you, but you suspect they’re just as exhausted from the trip back. Your eyes bounce around the different bodies inhabiting the room and it clicks that everyone that’s here now was at the Christmas Eve party, too.

“Why is everyone here?”

The words are soft, but they do not go unheard. Their heads all turn to you and their smiles are wide and shining like twinkling lights in the night sky.

Kenma sighs, “They’re here for you, obviously.”

“And the pain in the ass, but that’s beside the point.” Akaashi adds, making you laugh.

“We missed you, Y/n!” Bokuto booms and Hinata echoes the sentiment.

“This is all too much.” A familiar tightness coils in your chest and you try to swallow around the growing lump lodged in your throat. “I’m sorry, everyone.”

Tetsurou’s hands smooth up and down your arms in comfort, he can feel the way your body shakes against him. Eyes cast down to the floor to keep the tears at bay; you do not see someone approaching you until their feet are in view. Gentle hands cup yours and when you look up to see who it is, Kuroo-san is standing in front of you with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry for sending you away when you needed one another the most. Thank you for taking care of my son.”

Before you can respond, Tetsu’s obaasan walks up to you and lays her hands on top of her sons. “Nothing could have kept the two of you apart, sweetheart.”

Streams of tears are now flowing freely down your face. Stopping them would be fruitless as Kenma steps in front of you as soon as the two of them walk away with three sunflowers in his hands.

He stands there, looking like he’s mulling over the words to say. “I’m glad you’re back because he was insufferable without you here.”

“Hey, Kenma!” Kuroo protests as you snicker.

“You’re my best friend,” he adds, “and I care about you, so that’s why I’m glad you’re back.”

The sunflowers are pushed into your hands as Kenma steps back. Their stems are large, tickling your palms with their fuzz, and their faces are large and bright with petals longer than your fingers. They’re captivating with their colors vivid, and they smell like the earth.

Tetsu’s hand reaches around you and points at the flowers one by one. “I love you today,” _one_ , “I love you tomorrow,” _two_ , “I love you next year,” _three_ , and he steps to your side, getting down on one knee with that blue velvet box open, revealing the most breathtaking ring you have ever seen, “I love you forever.”

There’s a redness outlining his eyes and a noticeable heat in his cheeks. “If you’ll have me,” he breathes.

Enthusiastically, you nod. A wet laugh bubbles out, too. “ _Yes!_ ”

Distantly, you know that your friends are cheering. You know there are claps and shouts of congratulations, but as Tetsurou pushes the ring onto your finger and his arms secured around your waist, the kiss you share drowns out the world.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear and pulls back with a wide smile and an enchanting look in his eyes when you return his words.

The colors in his eyes shine brilliantly at you.

_Bright_ , you think. _Like a sunflower_.


	7. Today, Tomorrow, Next Year, Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue initially scheduled for Kuroo's birthday, but things got away from me. This is just a small fluff piece after they've gotten married.

Sunshine spills in through the blinds of the bedroom. Its subtle warmth caresses the skin of your cheek, rousing you out of bed. A long stretch and a loud yawn later, and you’re sliding into slippers to follow the smell of breakfast into the kitchen. On your way there, you glance at the vase of flowers on the small dining room table and make sure its water is clean and the petals are healthy. The three sunflowers situated inside are vibrant and thriving, and you’re happier for it.

Tetsu is in the kitchen cooking with music playing as he sings low along with the tune. His back is to you, so you quietly approach and press your forehead to his spine while your arms encircle his waist.

“Good morning, Mrs. Kuroo,” he chuckles, hand rubbing at your forearm.

“Good morning, Mr. Kuroo.” You peek around his shoulder to see what he’s made, and you’re pleasantly pleased with the assortment of breakfast foods he’s picked. “Do you want me to put the rice in the bowls?”

He waits until you’ve shifted to his side to kiss your cheekbone. “Yes, please. Everything’s almost done.”

Opening the cabinets, inside sits a 16-set of tableware, bought and gifted to you and Tetsu as a wedding gift from Bokuto. Something like, _“for when I come over with an enormous appetite,”_ was written in the card. Instead, you bypass those and reach up for the hand painted sunflower bowls that he’d gifted to you two years ago. One beautifully glued back together with the kintsugi repair kit you’d purchased. Tetsu finished the job by gluing the last golden edged piece onto the bowl’s lip.

After the two of you had gotten home from Kenma’s last February, Kuroo presented the bowl to you and asked, _“Should we break the other one to match?”_

“Do you want to sit outside? It feels really nice out. I’m sure your flowers will add to the experience.”

Recently—about two months after you got married—you and Tetsu bought this house together. It was smaller than the apartment, but it was warmer and much cozier than the last place could ever be. Kuroo had promised that the next home you both lived in would have room for a garden, and not a rooftop one. He definitely kept that promise.

“I’d do _anything_ to use our new patio furniture. Before it gets too cold, at least.”

Tetsurou carried a tray outside to place on the low table that sat just a few feet away. You, of course, still had the bowls of rice securely in your hands. As the two of you sat across from each other, you couldn’t help but to watch your flower bushes bend gently along with the soft wind. 

There’s a gorgeous weaving red rose bush protected by its thorns that is almost as tall as Kuroo. Purple bellflowers that are no taller than a foot delicately decorate the bed of soil; it’s color is a pleasant contrast to the darker ground it rests in. There’s a tiny greenhouse situated to the right that houses a small plot of spring flowers. Gorgeous blues and sprinkles of pink forget-me-nots are shaded and contained within their own little home. The soil underneath them is damp, never dry; they’re thirsty little things that guzzle up the water of other surrounding areas. About two feet away there is a bush abundant with lush green leaves, naked of their normal light purple and blue hydrangea blooms. It is the prosperous result of Kuroo’s Christmas gift from 2018, and during the rainy season in Japan, their flowers brighten up the normal grassy green of the plant.

You look at the man across from you and thank whatever deity allowed for this moment, every one before it, and every one that’ll come after. He holds the bowl with its golden scars closer to his mouth, picking up rice to go along with his grilled fish.

There are still nightmares that remind you of the months you had lost him. Images of him turning away from you, leaving you behind as someone that is not you appears beside him to take up the empty space. But when you wake up, he is right there with warm puffs of breath softly hitting your forehead before you bury your face into his chest. He holds you close; closer than he had even before the accident. Tetsurou has told you before that often, when he wakes up and you’re not in his arms or in bed with him, there is a piece of him that still panics. His brain telling him he never went to Hyōgo to pick you up that night, and his father’s words from the second hospital stay end up ringing true: _I doubt she’ll ever come back._

But on the opposite end of those scares are the pleasant memories of your wedding. Written on the invitations was an echo of what you said to Tetsu the morning you woke up with him in the hotel room, and the day he proposed to you. There, in delicate script, beneath your names and the date of the wedding was: _Today, Tomorrow, Next Year, Forever._

_During the spring, you and Tetsu went to the florist he’s gone to for years and asked her if she would supply the heaps of flowers needed for the wedding. She started crying when she heard the story of what the two of you had been through that past year._

_The first dance wasn’t a soft and slow traditional one, instead it was upbeat and reminiscent of a dance the two of you shared in your kitchen one morning. “Fly Me To The Moon,” was danced along to playfully; your hands on his face as you sang the words to him between the seconds where he peppered kisses to your cheeks and lips. Kuroo had held you close with an arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand held yours to his chest, and he dipped you on the last note of the song while he kissed your lips firmly._

_Afterward, when you and Tetsu made the rounds at the tables to say hello to the guests, you hugged Atsumu close only for your new husband to clap a hand down on his shoulder and ask, “Too bad I remembered, huh?” He was kidding, of course, but Atsumu still blanched and shrieked, “It was a joke!” Osamu tried not to laugh at his brother’s expression, while Kita stood there, slightly appalled by Atsumu having tried to make a move on a vulnerable you._

_“Your moral compass must not be workin’ right, Atsumu.”_

_“Kita, please!”_

_Sat at a table with a few other adults was a man you weren’t quite familiar with. Tetsurou introduced him to you as the professor that sent him on the errand to the roof of the science building in order to procure herbs for his lunch. The three of you laughed about the turn of events, and the professor playfully commented that after he received the invitation and letter from Kuroo about the wedding, he began sending his students on more errands in hopes they ended up as happy as the two of you._

_At one point that night, Bokuto is blubbering cheek to cheek with your new husband as they reminisce over their high school years; the team rivalries, their healthy bromance, and everlasting friendship. Bokuto tells him he’s incredibly proud of the man he’s become and for finding someone so loving and strong as you._

_Sakusa congratulated the two of you as he radiated overwhelming contentment that you had never seen from him in the short friendship you’ve had with him. It took everything in you not to wrap him up in a hug, but he compromised by letting you hold his hand in yours for exactly ten seconds._

_Hinata, bless him, nearly launched himself at you before being cut off by Kuroo._

_“I’m sorry, I’m just so happy for the two of you!”_

_His hug nearly crushed the breath out of you as you laughed in his embrace._

_“Kuroo-san,” he squished Tetsu’s cheeks between his hands. “I wish both of you so much happiness!”_

_Kenma wouldn’t look you in the eye, even when you danced with him. He said it was embarrassing to be out there on the dance floor because he didn’t know what he was doing, but you could see the glistening of tears and the red on his nose he was trying to hide._

_“You’re just happy for your two best friends, aren’t you, Ken?”_

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered._

_You giggled and pulled him into a firm embrace while you swayed back and forth. “I’ll thank you forever, Kozume.”_

_Kenma’s arms slowly wrapped around you before squeezing. He didn’t say a word._

Across the small table, you reach out to grab the hand Tetsu has briefly rested on the table while he drinks his coffee and lets the morning air blow through his loose hair. He smiles when he feels your skin smooth against his palm, and he rubs the pad of his thumb over your wrist.

“You alright, petal?”

You grin back, “Yeah, I’m just thankful that we’ve made it this far.”

Tetsu picks up a bit of your grilled fish with his chopsticks and holds it out for you to eat. “Did you not think we would?”

It’s a playful jab, and he smirks when you frown at him after taking the food. “Of course, I did!”

He sets down his chopsticks and pulls your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “I’m grateful that I get to wake up to you everyday just like I planned. Welcoming each other home, holding your hand like this, and having you sat next to me. All of it,” he says into your skin. “I love that I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You chuckle and sit up to bend over the small table, asking him for a kiss. “You still happy that the pipe in my apartment burst?”

He obliges your request. “Ecstatic.”

With a hum you ask, “and how do you feel about a tinier version of you running around?”

There’s the smallest pause before Tetsu leans back, observing you with curious, but fond eyes. “Are you—?”

“Not yet, but I think we can put in a bit more work if you’re willing.” You answer slyly.

His smile is bright, blinding even, and your own matches the radiance as he pulls you around the table and into his lap. His kisses cover your neck and jawline while his hands disappear inside of your shirt, pressing warmly into your back.

Against the cotton fabric of your shirt, he says, “You’re my entire world, you know that?”

You bury your fingers into the hair at his nape, massaging the area. “And you’re mine.”

There is a calming quiet that settles over the atmosphere as you hold each other. The breeze blows, the leaves and trees rustle and bend; you close your eyes and focus on the man in your arms. His touch, his body heat, the faint beating of his heart, and you sigh happily.

There is only him and a golden river of possibilities ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I modeled the wedding after western ones since I'm unaware of traditional Japanese customs.


End file.
